Spinning for Hours
by Sir Mocha
Summary: In a Springfield of the future, a teenage Lisa must deal with an unjust society of geniuses at school, and find a way to reinforce her own struggling personal relationships with friends, with family, and with a certain Thelonious...
1. Introduction

Hi, everyone, as usual my name is THE SEAOKNARNAR and this is my fic. This is actually my first Simpsons fic, and I noticed a sad lack of angst fics under this category. That is why I have undertaken this great quest to write a good angsty Simpsons fic (a feat, I realize, that might just be impossible). Therefore, this chapter is **THE TEST CHAPTER** with an introduction to the main character and a slight introduction of the storyline. **_Please, please, please review and tell me what you think of this story!_** You may be honest, but try not to be too brutal. Based on the feedback I will decide whether or not to continue the story. Thank you for your help.

By the way, you have to keep in mind that I'm trying something new, so some of the characters might be a little OOC. Also, though I'm a huge Simpsons fan, I don't know everything and if there are any glaring details I've completely botched, could you please tell me? I want to make this story as good as possible.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Simpsons.

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 1: Hello, my name is Lisa Simpson.

Hello. My name is Lisa Simpson, and this is a story about how I found acceptance, friendship, and love at the glorious age of 14.

Most of you probably think of me as a short 8-year-old with a little red dress, a string of pearls, and a head of bushy yellow hair. You probably assume that I adore school, and that I like to spend my free time at the library, volunteering at the old folks' home, or playing my saxophone.

Well, by the time I turned 14, the summer right before 8th grade let out, I would say that I had changed a lot from the above assumptions. I was no longer so little (5'6", 120 lbs.), and I had long since ditched the red dress for a baggy jeans/ sleeveless tee/ sneakers ensemble. My hair had grown long, and was turning my mother's characteristic blue at the roots. I kept the pearls, however, because they were, by now, a part of me.

By 14, I hated school with a passion but still tried my hardest. It was evident that, unless a large pot of gold fell through my bedroom roof, the only way I was going to go to college would be on a full scholarship. At Jebediah Springfield, my middle school, I received straight As in all my honors classes. (Despite hating school, I was still very smart, but didn't take the pleasure of flaunting it the way I used to.)

But in my spare time, I was no longer the aspiring college-bound. I did not volunteer anymore, and the only section of the library I enjoyed spending my time in was the New Age section (I was big into magick by this time). I was learning to play guitar, but still played on my sax very often, and even at some of the local jazz places. Like my pearls, my saxophone was part of me.

If you had asked me to count my friends, I could have done it on one hand. Sure, I could carry on a conversation with people, but all the girls at JSMS were heavy into makeup, dating, and other pop-culture, and I _could not stand_ people like that. I felt that I didn't fit in to their little social world that well (though I never had before). Also, I was never really close to any guys…

…Except one. I think you'll be surprised to find that my only friend (and a guy too!) lived next door to me, and his name was Tommy (he used to go by Todd, which was short for Theodore) Flanders. Obviously, he was not the same boy he had been when I was 8. His mother's death seemed to have struck a chord deep inside him, and although he did not manifest it immediately, he began to change as a result of it. He became less of a goody-goody wimp, and more of a rebel. By the time he was 14, he had already gotten drunk, stoned, and even once found himself in a knife fight (he won, thank Buddha). He even had several arguments with his father over religion. Tommy became a Buddhist like me, and his father would simply not accept that. 

Though he was a rebel, Tommy was still the nicest guy in Springfield, and the greatest friend I could ever hope to have. We were the best friends in the world, and we would stay up until midnight talking on the phone or chatting online. (My father was usually away and oblivious to what I was up to, which is why I could have these late-night chats.) I believe that Tommy was closer to me than he was to Rodd, his dorky brother, and I was definitely closer to Tommy that I was to Bart, who would be in a juvenile correction facility for the next six months. 

Despite my friendship with Tommy, my heart still ached for love from my family. Bart was so bad-assed that he could feel no love, and anyway he was away and never wrote (though I'm not sure they would let him). 

My mother Marge had run off with some suave French bowler (apparently she was not as loyal as most people thought, though I don't blame her. Dad was so drunk all the time that I wouldn't have stayed with him, either. But she _could_ have thought of my feelings, for once). My mother took my younger sister Maggie with her, and they were currently living somewhere in Europe. You don't know how much anguish I felt, realizing that Marge loved Maggie so much more than me, and I felt betrayed that I was left in Springfield while they went off frolicking in Europe. I thought of Marge and Maggie as little as I could. It helped that Marge never wrote to me (she was probably too busy *bleeping* that bowler).

My dad, Homer, was stricken by Marge's desertion, and he became a workaholic. I rarely saw him at home. He was too busy kissing Mr. Burns' butt to be at home and love me. And when he wasn't at home, he was usually blowing his paycheck at Moe's. 

From my lack of love, I think I became more bitter and uncaring then was necessary. Without Tommy, I probably would have gone off the deep end and killed myself or something drastic like that. When Tommy moved away a week before I started 9th grade, I nearly did. I knew that, though Tommy was my friend, we wouldn't be able to keep the same kind of contact we used to. So when I found acceptance, friendship, and love right in my very own high school, it was exactly what my poor deprived heart needed. 

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Ok, so now it would be very nice of you to review my story for me. Constructive criticism would be appreciated, and feedback on whether I should continue or not is mandatory (just kidding, but it is **highly** recommended). 

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~

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	2. Much Needed Correspondance

I've decided to take the plot a little more slowly in this story. Sorry to all the people who expected to meet the person Lisa falls in love with in this chapter…. I don't think we'll get to him this chapter. Sorry 'bout that!

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Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to all my WONDERFUL reviewers!! I have gotten nothing but positive feedback, and so I will most definitely continue.

This story is dedicated to one of my friends named Alison, who is one of the biggest Simpsons fans I know and on whom I partially modeled my new Lisa. Here's to you, Blondie!

P.S: Please tell me which signature you all like better. I'm experimenting with new ideas.

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~ or ~$ 3 @ 0 | |\| @ |2 |\| @ |2~

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 2: Much Needed Correspondence

The day before I was supposed to start my "new life as a mature and responsible high-school freshperson" (as my middle-school principal so eloquently phrased it), I was lying around, staring at my wall, contemplating suicide. I was trying to think of the least painful way I could pull it off. I came to the conclusion that pills would be too painful, slitting my wrists would be too bloody, and getting to a bridge or tall building to jump off of would take too much time and effort. Of course I was not planning to kill myself anytime soon, but I never knew if I would get desperate in the future. These things just can't be pulled off at the last second, and for a wimp like me I needed a lot of time to find a solution that was relatively painless. 

Well, after I exhausted all the possible options in my head, I decided that on my last day of freedom I might as well do something fun. Of course, there was not much I could do in that little town. (I had seen all the movies, and been to all the plays, and many of the stores were closed, it being a Sunday and all.) So I decided to go online and read some fanfictions of my favorite television show, _Disfunkshunl Famliy_, and excellent cartoon show about a stupid family and all their madcap adventures.

Before I started on the stories, I decided to check my email. You can imagine my happiness at finding a letter from Tommy, because he hadn't talked to me in almost a week and I was nearly dying! 

_To: jazz_blues@duffnet.net_

From: od_one@duffnet.net

Hey Spike! (Spike was Tommy's nickname for me, because my hair used to be so spiky.)

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Hope you're well! I really am not…:-(. Guess where I live now? If you guessed New York, then you're one hell of a guesser. Actually, I live in an Amish district of New York.

XP

Now really, I have nothing against the Amish, but for a kid like me who grew up on flush toilets, I'm finding the switch a little difficult. And don't even get me started on electricity; I asked an Amish dude where I could plug in my boom box, and he smashed it and said that it was the devil's machine. XP

I think the only reason the Amish people let us in was because my dad has bought a lot of furniture from this particular district. I guess my dad thinks that I will reform and become a good little Amish boy by living in this community. The only way I have reformed so far was to bike 5 miles out of the district to a nearby town so I could use a library computer. Apparently my dad doesn't expect me to do so much biking, or he would have taken my bicycle away. I'm surprised he's letting me keep anything at all that resembles modern machinery. He claims that all of our possessions are "sins against God," so we're getting rid of most of our "worldly possessions." I conveniently did not _tell him about my under-the-floorboard stash of Buddhist books and illegal fireworks. And I expect that he won't find out until it's too late ;D._

So I guess you're starting school tomorrow, huh. You told me that you got in to MBHS's magnet program? Good for you! All three of you from JSMS will do well in that program, I'm sure. I'm going to be home schooled in the courses of Biblical Interpretation, Modern Evangelism, Creation, The Evils of Darwinism, and God's Algebra. - - I think I'll run away ASAP.

And in case you're wondering, carbon monoxide poisoning is a much too stuffy way to kill yourself. Just thought I'd let you know.

Love, "the od one"

Hmmm, carbon monoxide poisoning, interesting. It didn't even occur to me. But I think it _is_ too stuffy.

Of course, I quickly wrote a reply back to Tommy, seeing as how I wouldn't have much free time once school started.

_To: od_one@duffnet.net_

From: jazz_blues@duffnet.net

Hey Toddy (my personal nickname for Tommy that really pissed him off)_,_

Ewwww, school! Don't remind me! 

I was looking through some of Homer's old junk, and guess what I found. A squishy rubber Buddha! He's so squishy (in a divine sort of way, of course)!

Ha ha, you have to be Amish! Personally I like my indoor pluming and television, but to each his own I guess ^_^ ! I take pity on you, and I promise to come visit you sometime in my life, if I ever get in your area!

You wouldn't believe how much has happened in six days! Apu finally, FINALLY, got arrested, ARRESTED, by the health department. He was trying to get rid of some old syringes by stuffing them in hot dogs and selling to hot dogs to unsuspecting customers. And Skinner retired, and now Willie is the new principal. Needless to say, Springfield Elementary will soon have a new dress code ^_^. Something with a little plaid in it, I reckon. And Ralph did a really good job on his presentation to the Power Plant on the dangers of unstable hydrogen fusion in the Plant's equipment. He got a standing ovation, believe it or not. And lastly, our own beloved Professor Frink finally quit working on his machine to find the end of pi. He got the programming completed, but he was having trouble designing the spherical canister to hold it in…something about the circumference not being adequate enough. So except for those few exceptions, life has gone on mundanely in the same way it usually does. 

Don't get downhearted! I'm sure in time the Amish will come to accept you as one of them, and you will adjust happily to their lifestyle ::coughnotcough:: If you need a place to run away to, I know a good tavern that will accept anyone so long as they have a buck or two!

Love, Spike

I sent the email to Tommy, and then I decided to get offline and call Martin, because I had a few questions about school the next day. 

I dialed his number, and he picked up. "Hello," he said, in a much deeper voice than I had heard last.

"Hey Martin, this is Lisa," I responded. "I hardly recognised you! Though I'd have to say that it's an improvement over the old!"

"Yeah, I thought so too," he responded. "Now can you get to the point, because I'm kind of in the middle of something. Nelson and I are gonna go skateboarding."

I raised one of my eyebrows in surprise, because evidently Martin had changed over the summer a lot more than just his voice.

"And then after that," he continued, "we're going to go to the museum to see the exhibit on poodles through the ages."

Apparently he hadn't changed as much as I first thought. That relieved me. And I continued. "So what do we need to bring tomorrow?" I asked.

"Nothing except our ID cards. Be sure to remember! They won't let you in without one! Ah, Lisa, Nelson says he's gonna punch me if I don't hang up soon. I've gotta go punch him first, talk to ya tomorrow!" He hung up.

I put the phone back on the receiver, and went up to my room to sit on my bed and contemplate one of the most bizarre telephone conversations I've ever had. I also decided to meditate over the next day of school, and the hope that with the arrival of school I wouldn't be so lonely anymore.

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Well, I think that's a pretty good chapter. It's a little lighter than the last one, which I think is necessary. But don't worry: the plot will start in the next chapter. And finally, FINALLY, you'll get to meet Mr. Mystery Love, who some of the reviewers have already identified correctly. And don't worry, this will NOT be a Lisa/Ralph story! I'm not that crazy…

I feel kind of bad for making Ralph smart and Martin kind of cool… You'll see them in the next chapter!

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Please, review and tell me what you think! Your reviews will help make me feel guiltier for not updating so quickly, and could even cause me to update sooner!

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~ OR ~$ 3 @ 0 | |\| @ |2 |\| @ |2~ ?

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	3. The Bus Ride to the Rest of My Life

Hey everyone, so sorry for the long wait! I could ramble on about excuses and stuff, but there's no point. Anyway…

WOW! WOW! WOW! I am _so_ mesmerized by all the great reviews I've gotten!! Some have made me laugh, some have made me think, but all have made me feel really happy! 

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THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!!! 

In response to one question, I'd like to clarify. Tommy and Lisa are Buddhists, but they have an interest in Wicca and all that New Age stuff. If anyone was confused by that, I'm sorry.

Well I've kept everyone waiting long enough! I might as well start the chapter now!

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~

Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own The Simpsons. It is also not my fault if any of the characters seem a little…different…than you're used to (well actually, that _is_ my fault :-)

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 3: The Bus Ride to the Rest of My Life

"…and that has been the traffic report! Signing out is Ernie Pie, your Pie in the sky!"

I rolled myself out of bed, and hit the floor with a loud _thump_. I blearily glanced up at my alarm clock, which read "6:00" in luminous red numbers. I groaned, and then heaved myself off my floor and lumbered into the bathroom down the hall. 

I splashed water on my face to wake myself up. I definitely do not look my best right after I wake up.

Ten minutes later my face was washed, my teeth were brushed, and my hair was brushed and pony-tailed. A little more awake, I walked back to my room so I could choose what to wear for my first day of high school. I knew well that what I wore today would greatly influence opinions others had about me for the next four years. What I wore today would decide for me who my friends would be (if any), my teacher's opinions of me (making it easier or harder for me to pass my classes), and it would reflect to others the opinions I had on myself.

"To hell with this," I thought. "I don't care what I wear! Anything is fine with me!"

Another 10 minutes later, I plodded down the stairs, dressed in a pair of old baggy jeans and a T-shirt that read "Springfield Isotopes". I went out and got the newspaper (Headline: Cracker Factory Now In Paris) and plopped down on our old couch to see if there was any _worthwhile_ news to read. 

I finally glanced at the clock and decided that if I didn't leave then, I would miss the bus. Homer wouldn't be up until _at least_ 8:30, so I felt no need to say goodbye. I did, however, reach in to his wallet on the kitchen table and pull out a crisp $20, "for later," I told myself. Promptly at 6:55 I grabbed the ID badge the school sent over the summer, and walked out my door.

When I reached the bus stop at the corner, I saw a large group of kids there my age or older. Among them I saw Nelson, Jimbo and his cronies (I didn't even know they _went_ to school), Milhouse (still as nerdy as ever, but now quite rich, thanks to the Cracker Factory), Ralph, Sherri and Terri (cough sluts cough), Martin (graffiting the sidewalk with Nelson), and others. I felt a pang of sadness at the fact that Bart was not present, because the noisy bus stop was just not the same without him. But he was doing time at the Hall, and there was nothing I could do about that.

As I reached the corner, I received a flurry of comments directed towards me, all to the effect of, "Hi Lisa, how was your summer?" I replied, "Fine," then awkwardly jammed my hands in my pockets, staring down at the ground while out of the corner of my eye I watched the hubbub at the bus stop. Eventually, Otto pulled up to the corner in that rickety, smoke-emitting bus of his, and we all piled on.

I found myself in an aisle seat, sitting next to Ralph. I was amazed that he was in ninth grade this year; he was studying quantum mechanics at Springfield University this past summer, and I was convinced that they were going to let him go right in to sophomore year. But, as he informed me, he "did not receive a passing grade in English or French, and thus he was required to continue in the typical scholastic trajectory." 

It's quite funny, really. Sometime, around sixth grade, Ralph's teachers had determined that Ralph was not, contrary to popular belief, the slow and stupid idiot everyone thought he was. Instead, when he was tested, they found Ralph's IQ extremely high: somewhere around 215. Needless to say, this shocked me: I had never expected Ralph's IQ to rival mine! He was immediately enrolled in special classes, and soon he flourished in school. He began lecturing at the Nuclear Power Plant where Homer works. Some say he was offered a job there, but couldn't accept due to child labor laws. 

Anyway, despite our high IQs, we could find nothing suitable to discuss during our bus ride, and so our conversation finally turned to school.

"I hope we have a good teacher," said Ralph. "I don't want to be hindered by an unfit educator. That would be detrimental to my education, especially since we'll have this person for the entire day and the entire year."

You see, Ralph, Martin, and I (along with several others from the other Springfield middle school, Lemon Tree Middle School) were enrolled in an accelerated magnet program for the gifted and talented, at Montgomery Burns High School. [A.N: If the middle schools and high schools in Springfield already have names, just assume that they have all been renamed by now]. That meant that we had one classroom in the school dedicated to us, and we would attend all our academic classes in that one room. (A fine art and gym—yuck—were required for us freshmen, and for those two periods we would be fraternizing with the commoners, as Ralph put it.) Apparently there were so few intelligent students in Springfield that we could all fit in one classroom. That was just sad. 

After I got tired of chatting with Ralph about inadequate teachers and dull-witted classmates, we both fell silent and stared out the window. I watched the buildings blur by until a hesitant tap on my shoulder interrupted me. I turned around and came face to face with Milhouse. [A.N: To the reviewer who ranted about how terrible Lisa/Milhouse is, don't worry!]

Despite being the son of a multi-million dollar business owner, Milhouse was still a pathetic loser. I guess money can't change a case that severe. And judging from his appearance, he was even more pathetic because he obviously took great pains to look hip and stylish for me, which was nothing I cared about at all. 

He had slicked back his hair with copious amounts of gel (or glue, I wondered, reflecting back on that time in the store seven years ago). His oh-so-cool glasses were askew on his face, and they made his eyes look small and squinty. He was wearing the _a la mode_ duds of Cracker Factory, which I absolutely could not stand. (I _have_ to back up and explain something. About four years ago, while sewing, Milhouse designed a tee shirt for his dad with the logo of the cracker factory his dad owns. Mr. Van Houten [sp?] printed the shirts, and sold them to all his employees who, in turn, sold the shirts to all their friends. Interest caught among teenagers and young adults, who adopted the shirts to an almost cult level. Pretty soon the old cracker factory stopped manufacturing crackers, and started manufacturing all kinds of trendy clothing. As you saw in the headline of today's paper, Cracker Factory has gone international, leaving Kirk Van Houten with gobs and gobs of cash.) Milhouse now lives with his dad in a mega-mansion in the rich section of Springfield, so I had no idea what the hell he was doing on the bus for _my_ neighborhood. All I knew was that he was staring at me in a way I _definitely_ did not like. "Take a picture," I snapped at him. "It'll last longer." 

He chose to ignore my snapping and said to me, "What the _hell_ did you do to your hair?" 

"Well if you don't like it," I retorted, "then you don't have to stare so hard. And besides, it's _natural_. Some weird gene fluke or something like that, I guess. But what the hell did _you_ do to _your_ hair?"

"You don't like it?" His face fell. "I was just trying something new… If I don't do this, _then_ will you like me?" he asked hopefully.

"After what you did last year, I don't see how I could _ever_ be attracted to you," I snapped back, and turned the other way. 

"Aw, Lisa," he whined at me, "I didn't _mean_ for you to go to the hospital! I didn't know you were allergic to _those_ flowers."

I turned around very quickly, and said, "Well, if you didn't KNOW, then you should have ASKED!" As I had said that in a very loud voice, a bunch of people turned around to stare at me. I quickly turned back, and stared out the window. 

I saw that we were fast approaching MBHS, and I groaned at the fact that I would be imprisoned here for the next nine and three-quarters months of my life. I _really_ did not want to be back in school. Especially not without Tommy. I had no other friends to make my year unbearable.

When the bus pulled up to the front of the school, and the bus doors opened, everyone, including me, jumped up and pushed to get out. Then I thought to myself, "Why am I in such a hurry to get in to the school?" and I let myself be swept along by the mass of exiting students.

Once off the bus, I stopped and looked doubtfully up at the formidable front of the school looming above me. Then a new wave of people carried me through the massive double doors and in to a new epoch of my life.

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Well, I made everyone wait so long, and I still didn't manage to introduce the mysterious boy who will sweep Lisa off her feet! Well, some of you have guessed right about whom it is (LOOK AT THE TITLE OF THE STORY!), and I hope that when the two meet, I can make convincing sparks fly! But that's the next chapter…

I'm going to be on vacation for 2 weeks, so I hope to write the next chapter sometime during the long drive there. But don't be mad if I can't! I'm not quite sure in what direction I'm going to take this story anyway…

I'd **love**for people to review…(hint hint) :-)

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~ 


	4. Brand New Places and Very Old Faces

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-_- Fronge, I hate these things. So for everyone: **this will be the last disclaimer!** Henceforth, this disclaimer applies for the rest of the story, because it's too much of a pain to put them on each chapter. So here we go for the last time: 

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I do not own the Simpsons. I do not own any of the characters you recognise from the Simpsons television show. I am not trying to make money from this story. I am not using this story for anything other than entertaining bored people who happen to be online. I do not need to be sued for writing this story, which I am not using for any purpose other than telling a story. I apologize to all you lawyers out there who enjoy inducing legal action against innocent people for trivial reasons. Please note that this disclaimer applies to the entire story. 

There, is that a decent enough disclaimer? It better be… Now no one can sue me (I hope)! ^____^

Onward!

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 4: Brand-New Places and Very Old Faces

Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I managed to squeeze my way through the doors of the monstrous high school. Unfortunately, it didn't do me very much good, as my first few steps into the entrance were immediately halted by the metal detector lines.

A few years back, an _incident_ occurred at MBHS. Several students and teachers were fatally wounded. It was all over the news. Ever since then, all the schools in Springfield have required students to carry ID cards with them at all times, and upon entering and leaving the school, all of us students and the staff have to pass through metal detectors while big tough cops with those black hurting-sticks stare at us menacingly. And don't ask me why we have to be metal-detected upon _exiting_ the school, because that makes no sense to me.

At Jebediah Springfield, the metal detectors usually took around 10 minutes to get through. However, I stood waiting in line for _at least_ half an hour that day, and as I stood waiting in-between some preppy girl and some nerd, I thought to myself, "I'm going to have to get here _really_ early if I want to make it to class on time. That's just great. Now I get to get even _less _sleep each night, all because these metal detectors are incompetent." The metal-detectors really _were_ incompetent. They detected even the slightest bit of metal on a person, and so everyone who went through had to empty their pockets of all their change, take off all their jewelry, and remove any jacket with metal buttons, hooks, snaps, or zippers (and you don't see many jackets with plastic zippers). I don't even know what they did for the kids with braces. And if your pants had metal rivets? Did you have to strip to get through the machines? Sheesh, the stupidity of the people who designed the machines amazed me.

After the aforesaid half-hour, I finally managed to worm my way through the machine (after convincing the cop that I beeped because I had a metal zipper on my jeans) and got out in to the open halls. Well, open in a sense that you weren't standing on top of the people around you. MBHS was _way_ overcrowded. The explosion of growth and development in Springfield led to a major rise in the population, and since MBHS was the only public high school in the area, it was huge and crammed. There was never enough space in the halls to comfortably move around. Still, the halls were less crowded than the entrance was.

I followed the crowd of people that were walking down the short passage leading to the atrium, the main chamber in the school. As soon as I stepped in to the atrium, I was bombarded by the sounds of hundreds of conversations, and by the number of hallways radiating outward from the atrium. Fortunately for me, a big sign was posted that read, "FRESHMEN, REPORT TO CAFETERIA," and there was an arrow pointing me in the general direction. Not that I needed it, of course. Anyway, seeing no reason to hang around, I started off towards the cafeteria. 

After numerous twists and turns, I arrived at my destination. I saw tons and tons of freshpeople (I HATE the term freshmen. That's so sexist!) milling around, and at the far end of the cafeteria there was a huge clump. Guessing that that was where I needed to go, I hurried over. On the walls they had posted long lists of every person's name, and next to each name was a room number that he or she had to report to. 

Shoving my way through the throng, I went to the S list and looked for my name. After reading the list through twice, I began to worry. I didn't see my name on the list at all. However, under closer inspection, I realised what the problem was. Some idiot had alphabetized the lists by _first_ name, so I should have been looking on the L list, not the S list. Rolling my eyes, I forced my way over to the L list, and found my name, which read _Simpson, Lisa E. _"Genius," I thought to myself sarcastically, "pure genius." I looked at the room number I was to go to. "075," I thought to myself. "That's in the basement. And all the way across the school, according to the map they gave me." Since I had been doing mostly nothing over the summer, I had enough spare time to memorize the map the school sent along with the ID card. And I'm glad I studied the map so far ahead of time, because the school was a four-story (five, including the basement) labyrinth of twisting hallways, odd ramps, staircases, obscurely placed rooms, and lots of dead ends. And I'm not exaggerating. 

To get to the closest staircase to go downstairs, I left the cafeteria, turned right at the end of the hall, went down two ramps, took a middle-left at a 5-way intersection, and followed a meandering hallway with lots of alcoves for people to sit in. I located the staircase, and descended in to the bowels of the school. 

MBHS was by no means new and shining, but at least the hallways above ground were somewhat cheerful and welcoming. However, in the basement it was an entirely different story. It was obvious that, upon the construction of the school, habitation by students was not in mind for the basement. It looked more like a place where the janitor kept his spare mops. The ground was ugly grey concrete, and there were many patches where the wiring in the walls was exposed (quite dangerously, I might add). There was a continual _drip _of water issuing from the squat pipes overhead, which caused the floor to be damp and mildewed in some places. The only light came from dim, dirty, bare bulbs hanging on wires from the ceiling. The Springfield State Penitentiary was probably a more cheerful and elegant building.

I plodded down the drab corridor, empty of all except a few students, until I came to room 75. There was a sign in ballpoint pen and notebook paper taped next to it, which read "MBHS Magnet Program" in crooked letters, as though someone had written it on a very bumpy surface. I sighed in disappointment at the fact that three-quarters of every day would be held down in this dank little room. 

"Well," I thought to myself, my hand on the doorknob, "as soon as I step through this door and in to that classroom, I will be imprisoned by the shackles of education. I will be forced to spend six of my eight classes every day in this room full of nerds, geeks, and braniacs (not unlike myself). I will become like them, eventually forsaking all other aspects of my life in my quest for knowledge. I will gruelingly compete to be the best and the brightest in the class, doing whatever I must to be tops. My soul will be replaced by a bank of useless information. My—"

"Excuse me," said a male voice behind me, "but, although you may be soliloquizing within your own mind, and I respect your right to do that, there _are_ others of us who need to get in to that room. So could you please either go in, or step out of the way?"

I turned around, ready to give that guy a piece of my mind. However, as soon as I saw his face, I froze. I felt a memory surfacing inside of me from some six years ago.

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~~ "I'm in the wrong school!" I wailed, then quickly turned and ran out of the room. I ran straight in to this boy, with oval glasses and sandy colored hair. He looked a little startled at my abrupt appearance.

I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I said, "Can you believe it? I'm in the wrong school!" I gave this nervous sort of chuckle.

He replied something about poor school naming, but I didn't pay attention to that. After he finished, I said, "My name's Lisa."

He replied, "I'm Thelonious."

I said, "Thelonious, like as in Thelonious Monk?"

He replied something about how his parents had named him after Thelonious Monk, and how he got beat up because he had a "sissy" name. 

From his advanced vocabulary, I could tell he was an intellectual like I was. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me.

We went outside, and began spinning in joyful circles. We spun for what felt like hours. In reality, it was_ hours, and eventually I realized that I had to get to Springfield Elementary, so I could hand in Linguo, my science project. "Oh my god," I said, "we've been spinning for hours! I've got to get to _my_ school and hand in Linguo!" I snatched up my stuff. "But I've had so much fun here with you," I continued, "I don't want to go."_

"You must," he replied rather determinedly, "You can't sacrifice good grades for love!"

I knew that, but it disappointed me all the same. "Will I ever see you again?" I asked sadly, embracing him in my arms.

He embraced me back, "Yes. At the Magnet high school." We hugged for the last time, and then he released me from his arms and said, "Now go!" 

I ran, and as I ran I felt tears well up in my eyes. ~~

It was Thelonious. He had kept his word to me from all those years ago. 

I was overjoyed! I had thought, all those years ago, that I would never see him again. Now here I was, in this dreary doorway, and I had just re-met someone from my past who cared about me deeply. 

But as I looked in to his eyes, I noted with despair that they held no spark of recognition of me. He knew me as no more than an annoying girl who was blocking his way in to the classroom. And, as Bart once said, I could pinpoint the exact moment when my heart broke in two. It was here and now.

"Well," he said, breaking the awkward silence, "my name's Theo. It was nice meeting you…" he ended awkwardly, not knowing, not remembering, my name.

"Yeah," I muttered, trying to not let him see the tears that had sprung to my eyes. I moved away from the door, which allowed him to pass through in to the room. 

I sank down against the wall next to the door, pulled my knees to my chest, and put arms on my knees and my head in my arms. At this moment I had only one thought: "He doesn't remember, he doesn't remember…"

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Kind of a downer, I know. But don't worry! All shall be made good later on. This is _not_ going to be a sad story. I want Lisa to be happy.

Lisa's memory was actually part of a Simpsons episode, for all of you who don't know that. In that episode, much crazy stuff happens, and as a result Lisa goes to the wrong school and meets Theo. I haven't seen that episode in a while, so the dialogue in the memory is not verbatim. However, it's close enough that it doesn't matter if it's verbatim or not. Still, if anyone know where I can see the script for that show, or hear it, or see it, could you please email it to me or leave it in a review? I want this to be as accurate as possible.

Other things: Can anyone tell me Lisa's middle name? I don't know if they've said it or not… Also, how old does anyone think Thelonious was in that Simpsons episode? Fourth grade? Third? I definitely think he was older than Lisa. And can anyone tell me the correct spelling of Thelonious and/or tell me who Thelonious Monk is/was? I'm not culture, you see, and I don't know these things. I suppose if I really must I will research these things, but if any of my _smart, cultured, intelligent, wise, loyal _readers know, that would be a lot easier and really helpful. Thanks!

Next chapter (tentative): We meet the magnet class. And we find out what this class does that is so special…

~ THE $E@0K|\|@R|\|@R Hammie Seao (my tentative full pen name. $E@0K|\|@R|\|@R is a title. Like Mrs. or Sir. Only 10 times better than those. And the THE in front of it means that I am the first and the only to use this title. I am the head $E@0K|\|@R|\|@R. And I deserve to be treated as such. ^__^)


	5. The SAT Advanced Degree

Howdy y'all! This chapper's really gonna be great! Yee haw!

To the reviewer who said I need to update faster: this chapter's dedicated to you! because you are absolutely right (I'm making no promises, though.)

A big **THANK YOU** to everyone who reviewed, and especially to those who answered my pesky questions! 

This is the chapter in which the plot kind of gets going, so without further ado...

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 5: The SAT Advanced Degree

"He doesn't remember...He doesn't remember..." I thought to myself. "My life is in shambles."

"Oh shut up!" thought another, more sensible part of my brain. "You realize that you are acting completely pathetic, right? You are pining away for some boy that you have a crush on. Don't you usually make fun of girls like that? And what would Tommy say, huh? He'd laugh in your face right now."

"You know what," I thought, "I'm right. This is pathetic." I stood up, brushed the dirt off my butt, and strode over to the door. "I will not be pathetic," I thought, and confidently yanked the door open.

I stepped in to what appeared to be a small dark room, with nothing but mops, brooms, and buckets in it. I was facing a door, but when I tried to open it, I found it locked. "There has got to be some mistake," I thought. 

"Please present ID for verification," said a cool female voice from a loudspeaker above my head. 

"Well, ok," I thought. I pulled out my ID card, but once it was in my hand, I did not know what to do with it. I stared at it, bemused.

"Please present ID for verification," said the voice again. 

I looked around for a scanner or something, but I couldn't see anything that even remotely resembled a high-tech electronic. All I saw was junk.

The voice persisted. "Please present ID for verification."

Now I was irritated. It was very well for the voice to say that, but if I was given no directions then how the hell was I supposed to know what to do? I yelled, "If you want my ID then here you go!" Then I threw the ID as hard as I could at the damn loudspeaker. I felt myself breathing heavily through my nose, the way I do when I'm pissed.

"Scanning," the voice said. Then a second later, "Simpson, Lisa E. Please proceed."

I stared dumbfounded at my ID for a second before picking it up off the ground. I don't usually act Homer-esque around technology, but this scanning system had gotten the better of me. This time.

I proceeded to the door and pulled it open. Then I gasped with shock and awe.

I had expected to see a dingy room like the rest of the basement. But instead, my feet carried me in to a hall softly lit by crystal chandeliers. The rich red carpet felt very soft and plush below my besneakered feet. The walls were not moldy wrecks, but instead were ornate patterns of gold-leaf against gold wallpaper. Along the walls were class pictures dating back to the 60s. Polished mahogany tables were spread out every so often along the walls, alternating with polished mahogany benches. I could hear classical music playing softly out of large speakers in the corners of the hall. I thought I could hear the burble of a fountain coming from the end of the hall.

I was all alone, except for a woman about half-way down the hall. She had dark brown hair pulled back in to a bun, and a pair of spectacles on her nose. She looked kindly, but very strict. She was holding some electronic device, and she looked down at it as I approached. 

"Lisa Simpson?" she asked in a kindly but strict voice. "You are in B group. Enter through the doors to my left." 

I turned to her left, and saw two magnificent white doors. I pushed them open, and found myself in a room decorated similarly to the hall. However, instead of class pictures, the walls of this room were decorated with complicated charts and diagrams, as well as posters with encouraging words. And instead of mahogany tables and benches, there was one huge semicircular polished mahogany table. It was shaped like a piece of elbow macaroni, and around the outside edge were about 30 comfy red chairs, spread evenly apart. All the chairs faced a regal looking blackboard, with the words "Welcome Back Corvids!"

I spotted Martin sitting in one of the chairs near the end, with Ralph sitting next to him. Since I knew no one else in the room (with the exception of one sandy-haired heartbreaker) I made my way over to the duo. They were deep in discussion.

"Hey guys," I said, interrupting them. They both replied, "Hey Lisa," before returning to their conversation. Something to do with physics. 

I glanced at my watch, which read "7:27" and thought, "Good, only a few more minutes before class starts. I am utterly bored here." With my remaining spare time, I looked around the room at my fellow classmates.

They definitely weren't what I'd been expecting. I had been expecting lots of nerds with pocket protectors and thick glasses. But, boy, was I surprised. Many of them were dressed like I was, and none of them seemed particularly nerdy. They were way cooler than the nerds I had hung out with at Springfield Elementary (I didn't have many friends at Jebediah Springfield). I think they would even meet Tommy's approval, appearance-wise. I saw several of them had dyed hair (like mine, but mine is natural), and I think I spotted a nose ring somewhere. Definitely not what I'd been expecting of them.

The bell then rang to signify the beginning of class. Everyone moved towards his or her seats, but the conversation had not died down yet. I wondered where the teacher was. Was that woman outside our teacher? I didn't think she looked too bad. Maybe—

But my thoughts were interrupted with the arrival of our teacher (or who I assumed to be our teacher). She threw the door open, and staggered in to the room under a huge pile of workbooks. As soon as she put the workbooks down, she said in a loud cheerful voice, "Welcome back to all my Corvids, and if you're new, then welcome! I'm Mrs. Finch, but you can call me Mrs. Finch!" I stared at the teacher, who did not look like a conventional educator. She was short and skinny, and she had a beaky nose protruding from under masses and masses of curly red hair. She seemed to be in her mid-30s. It was very hard to see her eyes because of the volumes of hair, but I think I saw that she had blue eyes. 

She continued with her speech in her energetic tone. "We're going to have a very challenging and grueling year. I expect to assign bookloads of homework, and give out detentions every day. I may even resort to putting you in a corner with a DUNCE cap on your head. Or, the most ultimate punishment, I may make you stay after school and copy down lines while listening to loud country music." 

I was appalled at this harsh statement, until I saw that Mrs. Finch was grinning broadly, as was most of the class. Then I finally understood that she was joking. My face actually broke in to a wide grin. And then I thought to myself, "I think I'll survive this year ok."

"Well," said Mrs. Finch, "as this is the first day of school, we'll be taking things easy today. Corvids, we have the workbooks for another marvelous year—" at this, three quarters of the class groaned loudly, and one guy said, "You're joking again, right?" 

"No Alfh," said Mrs. Finch, "I'm afraid I'm not. But worry not, the workbooks are only for the morning. This afternoon will be freshie orientation." At this, the class perked up. "We'll have some fun with that, I'm sure. But now, time for workbooks! Amber, please distribute them."

As the bespectacled and befreckled Amber distributed workbooks, Mrs. Finch said, "And now would all the freshies please follow me? The country requires you to take a little test, nothing serious." With that, she sauntered out of the room. 

Ralph, Martin, a few others unknown to me, and I got up and followed our energetic teacher. Once we got out of the room, we saw that she was at the end of the hall, standing next to the fountain. She beckoned to us, then opened a door next to her and skipped through.

All us freshies exchanged Looks, but we followed anyway. I led (and surprised myself by doing so), and so I found that I was the first freshie in to the room. And I groaned in disappointment when I saw what awaited us.

The room was bare except for about 20 individual desks spaced widely apart from one another. On each desk was an enormously thick test book, with the words "SAT: Advanced Degree" printed on them. 

"Come in, and find your seats," bubbled Mrs. Finch. "They're alphabetical. And for goodness sakes, hurry up before A group gets in here. I have to discuss something with you all."

I found my seat to the far right, and sat down while I stared at the test. "SAT Advanced Degree? I've never heard of that," I thought to myself.

Mrs. Finch perched on the edge of the teacher's desk, and addressed us. "I'll explain in detail later, but I'll tell you right now what you need to know. Despite the denotation, B group is far more advanced than A group. But A group doesn't know that. So don't tell them. This SAT is given only to the top magnet high school students. It's pretty much a secret in the educational world. It's the highest degree SAT offered in this country. I'm sure that none of you will have any trouble whatsoever with it. And I expect that none of you will go blabbing this to anyone who doesn't need to know. Look, here comes A group." She glanced towards the door, at the 10 or so freshies being led by the brown-haired teacher from earlier.

Mrs. Finch slid off the desk and stood up ramrod straight. "Well, come in and hurry up!" Mrs. Finch snapped at the A group freshies. "We haven't got all day, and if you don't finish this test then you won't do well and Mrs. Westinghouse and I will be forced to place you in regular AP classes."

Most of the As stared strangely at my teacher, but they eventually dispersed among us Bs, until finally all the magnet freshies were sitting at desks, waiting to be instructed. 

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Mrs. Finch snapped bossily. "Get to work!"

I was amazed that my teacher could change tones so convincingly and quickly. Either she was a good actor or a very moody person. Before I began working she caught my eye, and I could swear that she gave me a wink. I nearly laughed out loud. Then I got to work.

***

Two-and-a-half hours later I finished checking over my answers. I put my special No.2 testing pencil down and looked around the room. Everyone was still working. I wondered, "Did I skip a part? Why am I the only one done?" I flipped through the answer book, but I saw that I had done everything. I looked up at Finch and Westinghouse, silently asking what I should do now.

Finch got the message, and strode over to the chalkboard, where she promptly wrote in big letters, "WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED, LEAVE YOUR TEST AND RETURN TO CLASS." I got up, and saw a few faces staring at me jealously. But Mrs. Finch's face was beaming. Happy, I strode out the door, and walked back down the hall to my classroom door. 

I pulled open the door and walked timidly inside the quiet room. There were quite a few faces glancing curiously at me. The second the door shut, everyone started clapping and cheering, and many got up and headed towards me. It was quite intimidating.

"Way to go!" said one girl with the nose ring. "You finished first!"

"Yeah," said some guy, "The Finch always favors the First-Done."

"Wow," said the girl I recogised as Amber. "I love your hair."

These comments, and many more, swirled around me until I felt a little dizzy. I was thankful when a loud and firm voice interrupted.

"Everyone, please! This is not Corvid behavior!" The room fell silent. "Hi," he said, turning to me, "I'm Soapy McAllister, the captain of the Corvids. On behalf of all of us, I'd like to welcome you to the Corvids!" Applause followed this greeting.

"Thank you," I muttered timidly (Soapy was a very imposing figure), "but I don't even know if I passed the test or not. How do you know I made it?"

"Oh," said Soapy dismissively, "the computer scans your answers while you bubble in, and actively records your score. And it feeds that info to that monitor over the blackboard. Once you finished, we looked to see your score, and you got a 1600."

"Soapy, someone's coming!" said one girl loudly, interrupting Soapy's lecture.

Instantly, the room fell silent, and all of them hurried back to their seats. Soapy whispered to me, "Instructions on chalkboard," before taking his seat as well.

I glanced at the blackboard, which read "FRESHIES: TAKE A WORKBOOK AND BEGIN WORK ON PAGE ONE" I walked over and took one of the huge workbooks, tightening my grip on it when I felt its weight. I maneuvered to the chair I had occupied before, sat down, opened the book, and saw that I had several calculus problems to work. Unfortunately, I had no pencil with which to work.

I was contemplating what to do when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned, and saw that my poker was a nice looking girl who was smiling at me. She handed me a pencil, and I smiled at her in thanks. Then I read the instructions through, and began working.

***

I was in the middle of problem 2 when I heard the grand double doors open, and saw Ralph walk proudly through. I expected everyone to jump up and applaud like they did for me, but all I saw were a few people giving Ralph thumb-ups. I looked up at the monitor, and noted that Ralph got a 1590. I gave him a thumb-up, too and returned to my work.

In Ralph's fashion, the rest of the freshies reentered the room. Lastly, Mrs. Finch entered, and as soon as the doors closed, she studied the monitor, then gave a loud whoop. I think every one of us jumped about a foot from surprise.

"Excellent work, my newest Corvids!" she bubbled. "You all made it (not that I had any doubts, of course)! And you all are working so diligently! I LOVE this class! As a reward, you all may talk until lunch."

Immediately conversations sprang up around the room. I turned to the girl who had loaned me the pencil, and said, "Hey, thanks! I couldn't have done that calculus-" here I made a face "-without it."

"Oh, don't mention it," she replied. "I was a freshie last year, and I know how much a little kindness can do good. By the way, I'm Needa."

I replied, "Nice to meet you. I'm--"

"Shhh! I'll learn your name this afternoon. I don't want to know beforehand," she informed me. Then she went on, "It's kind of a tradition thing. Nothing personal."

I nodded, and we chatted idly until the lunch bell rang. We both got up, and I was about to leave when Needa asked me, "Hey, do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends? We don't bite (at least, I don't)."

I considered my options. It was the first day of school, and I had no friends to spend lunch with. I did not want to end up at a table of cheerleaders…or worse. What did I have to lose?

"Sure," I replied, and together we made our way to the cafeteria.

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Yeah… about that last part, it's not that I hate cheerleading. It's just that all the cheerleaders I've met are not very nice people. So if you are a nice cheerleader then I apologize for insulting you. And I think the cheerleader personality is the opposite of the Lisa personality, so that's why I put that in there.

Next chapter: the freshie orientation. Beginning writing it as soon as I post this chap. 

*To everyone attending school soon: I am starting the day after tomorrow, and I feel your pain. It's criminal to start before Labor Day… but that's the Mo. Co. school board for you.*

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~

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PLEASE REVIEW!!!


	6. Lunchtime with the Loonies

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 6: Lunchtime with the Loonies

As Needa and I strode down the hall, I asked her questions about the school. "So," I asked, "is it true that someone found the skeleton of a construction worker in the back halls?" MBHS had so many back corridors it was almost believable. 

She just raised her eyebrows at me. "In this crackpot school, anything is possible." Which actually answered my question not at all, but what ever.

"Ok, then, is it true that there are hidden passages here? I heard some upperclasspeople talking about one where all the stoners and crackheads go during lunch."

"I can tell you that that is indeed true. But enough talking. You'll find out what you need to know soon enough."

At that time we arrived at the cafeteria, a large squarish room full of tables and masses and masses of people. Along the walls were trashcans and stacked folding chairs, and folded tables leaning against the walls in acute angles. My impression of everything was hot, smelly, and loud. Not ideal dining conditions, for sure.

"Welcome to the MBHS cafetorium," Needa announced sarcastically. "Home of the greasiest processed cow meat burgers, saltiest grease fries, wiltedest salad, and least meaty meatloaf."

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of it.

"However, we do not have to put up with that because I know all the secrets of this school forward and backward," she replied smugly. "That, and we're _Corvids_. You'll find we have a lot of special privileges in this school. Suivez-moi." 

I followed this girl out of the cafetorium and through a network of passages, until we came out next to the gym. 

"This is one of the best secrets of the school," she said. "This is what being a Corvid is all about."

We entered the gym, and I paused to get a good first look at it. It was a large rectangular room, as most gyms are. There were several basketball hoops, and in the corner a pile of wrestling mats. Against one wall was a row of shiny bleachers, split in half by a motorized moving wall (used to separate the gym in half), and against the opposite wall was a large scoreboard clock thingy (don't ask me, I don't do sports) with the MBHS Bloodhound on it, the school mascot. Several doors opposite me led off in to what I presumed to be the locker rooms. 

I was jerked out of my observations with a sharp whistle from Needa, who was standing by the bleachers. "Hey freshie, c'mon over! I'm getting hungry." She said this in quite an impatient tone, so I scuttled over as fast as my little (ok, pretty big) legs could carry me. I was surprised, however, when she walked right under the bleachers. 

After blinking confusedly, I followed her, and was surprised to see that we weren't the only ones down here. She was chatting amiably with several other Corvids, and upon seeing me, she waved me over. "I'm just showing the frosh how to get to the dining hall," she said to the unknown Corvid, who left, carrying a plate of delicious looking food in his hands. 

"Ok," she began, "see how these bleachers run the length of the wall? Well, we're going to walk down to that end—" and walk we did, "—and now see how these bricks look different from the others? It's because they arrant' really bricks; they're just plywood instead. Take out your ID card—" and take it out I did, "—and just hold it out towards the wall." She did the same with her card. 

That annoying female voice from before said, "Scanning ID. Scan complete. Free to proceed." Then the door swung open, and I stepped inside.

I instantly thought, "wow…", because the room was so grand it would not have looked out of place in Buckingham Palace. Picture ornate diamond chandeliers, plush red carpet, and gilt picture frames framing French Impressionist works. At the far end was a roaring fire inside a regal stone fireplace, above which was a painting of an old man grinning jovially. Surrounding this fireplace were comfy looking armchairs, and against the wall were bookshelves stuffed full with books. But the most interesting aspect by far was at this end of the room where I was currently standing. And that aspect was the buffet table.

Tens of silver trays were sizzling, sending their delicious smells wafting in to the air. To the left I could see a salad and fruit bar. And to the left of that…

"IS THAT A SUNDAE MACHINE?" I asked, thunderstruck. And an affirmative nod from Needa sent my taste buds salivating. Mmmm…. sundaes...

Before I started drooling on the carpet, Needa grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the buffet. "You'll find lots of excellent food here," she said, "and much of it vegetarian."

One plateload and one sundae later, we left the hidden room, carrying our lunches on plastic trays with us. As I was walking out the hidden door, I looked up, and as fate would have it, I saw Thelonious talking with a group of his friends. He spied me spying on him, and he said, "Oooo! Sundae! Can I have it?"

I felt like screaming, "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM AND YOU WANT TO TAKE AWAY MY SUNDAE? GO TO HELL!" Instead, I rationally said, "Sorry, I don't give food to jerks." With that I flounced away, Needa following me, looking shocked. "What was that all about?" she asked me incredulously. "Do you even know him?"

"I used to know him, but I don't want to anymore," I replied snootily. My earlier desolation seemed to have given way to unbridled anger towards this person I used to dream about. "Because he's an effing moron…" I told her. 

Needa just gave me a wide-eyed, eyebrow-raised stare, then shrugged. "Whatever," she said. "And turn left here."

***

I could hear them before I could see them. Apparently Needa and her friends were very energetic and loud. 

"Be open-minded with us, k?" she requested of me. "Otherwise you will be very, very scared."

We came to a little alcove in the wall, where all the noise was coming from. I warily peered inside. There were about 12 of them sitting on the ground, and they were yukking it up and having a grand old time from the looks of it. One girl with pinkish-purple hair was flinging her arms about wildly, while those around her were laughing hysterically. Another girl with a ponytail was pouting, while someone next to her patted her on the head mock-affectionately. One guy was attempting to flirt with some girl, and from the looks of it having an unsuccessful time. I just stared with my mouth hanging open slightly.

"Needa!" someone said, and everyone looked up at her and said hi. 

"Hey everyone!" she said exuberantly. "This is an unknown freshie, we don't know her name yet but we'll learn it after lunch. She's gonna hang with us today, meet some people, etc. etc." She took her place in the mash of friends, and I somewhat hesitantly followed. 

The girl with the pinkish-purple hair turned to stare at my head. "Woah, cool hair!"

I replied, "Yeah, it's actually natural. My mom—" here I hesitated, "—my mother has natural blue hair, it's been growing in recently." I gave a nervous kind of half smile. "I like your hair too. It's very…pink."

"It's PURPLE!" she said, her eyes bugging out. 

And this was the way the rest of lunch went. Inane chatter all around me, and I actually took part in it. I felt slightly better, because at least these people were accepting me, and were not rich snobs or idiots like the rest of the school. 

But speak of the devil…

During the middle of lunch, a group of girls walked by, but the leader made them stop as she turned to stare at us. The smirk was evident on her cotton-candy-pink bubblegum-chewing lips. The stench of overpowering flower-and-fruit-smelling perfume nearly knocked me out. The girl narrowed her electric-blue eyelids and said in a silky voice, "Well now we know where the freaks hang out, isn't that right Lisa?" 

As I stared up at Janie, my former friend-turned-bitch, I narrowed my own eyes and responded, "It's better to be a freak than to look like one."

At that Janie got all huffy, and stomped over to where I was sitting. She sneered down at me, "Did you just insult my looks? Because you really don't wanna mess with me."

I sneered right back up at her. "Your looks are too ugly to insult. I take pity on you instead. Now just leave us alone. Your melodious voice will make me lose my lunch. Oops, too late," I said, standing up, picking up my half-eaten food and dumping it on her head. "What a shame. I was looking forward to eating that, but now you look much prettier, so I guess it was all good in the end." 

"Lisa Simpson, you will hate ever doing that to me!" she yelled angrily. "Agggghh! There's corn in my hair. Omigawd omigawd omigawd!" She clomped off with her cronies shooting angry looks in my direction, then following concernedly.

All of Needa's friends were staring aghast in my direction. Then the pink-purple hair girl said, "You rock! I have wanted to do that since I started at this crummy school!" She started applauding, and soon the rest of them did too.

"Let me guess," said Needa wryly, "another effing moron from your past?" 

"Something like that," I mumbled. I started to pick up the food on the floor, while thinking deep and hard about what just happened. I was just as shocked as Janie was. I mean, I'm not usually loud and opinionated like that, and I try to avoid violence (though I can't say that that was especially violent). Usually I just try to get the aggressor to go away. But Janie was my best friend for a long time, before Tommy came along, and to have her say such hateful words really hurt.

My words were pretty hateful too, thought.

I contemplated this until the bell rang, signaling all of us to go back to class. I felt a bit of apprehension, as well as excitement. From what Mrs. Finch was saying earlier, I would have a very interesting afternoon. 

"Well, I'm not afraid of school!" I told myself. "I just stood up to an evil bitch, so what am I worried about?" I confidently stood up, and determinedly started marching off towards my classroom. Then I stopped and turned towards Needa sheepishly. "Can you tell me where to go? I don't know my way around yet." So much for super confidence.

Needa put her arm around my shoulder, and said, "Young grasshopper, there is much for me to teach you."

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Hey yeah so did you all like that chapter? Pretty impressive, the way Lisa stood up to evil Janie, wasn't it? And I especially liked that part where Lisa started drooling over the sundae… but enough from me, tell me what _you_ liked.

This chapter is dedicated to **bridg**, who told me not to worry about one negative review, and also who kicked my butt because of lack of updating, which I apologise for. This chapter was for you, hope you liked it!

Next chapter: Finally, FINALLY, we get to meet Lisa's classmates. 

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~


	7. Brethren and Sisterhood

Chapter first, author's note at the bottom! 

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 7: Brethren and Sisterhood

Ring…ring…ring…this was the sound of the bell signaling the return to class.

Clomp…clomp…clomp… this was everyone getting to his or her feet.

Shuffle…shuffle…shuffle… this was the eagerness with which everyone went his or her separate direction.

As for me, I shuffled along next to Needa, not saying a word, still thinking about my outburst. I can remember only several occasions where I have done things like that. There was that time Homer was planning to barbecue that innocent pig… and I liberated him! (The pig, that is.) And that time Bart melted our Christmas tree… wow, did I give him a strangling! But those occasions were provoked by peoples' actions, no their words. And to think I prided myself on being levelheaded. You know; sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. So what was happening to me?

I pondered this as Needa showed me the way back to the fancy underground hall. As we entered it, it occurred to me that a ceiling that tall could not be concealed all the way underground. It didn't line up with the other basement ceilings, to be sure. That must mean that there's some part sticking above ground. Huh. 

We passed through those monstrous white doors, back in to the classroom. I located the seat I had occupied, and sat down in it. Needa sat down next to me, and I said to her, "Sorry for the way I acted at lunch. I really shouldn't have tossed that food on her¾ " here my face broke in to a grin for the first time all day, "¾ but it felt sooo good! But I shouldn't have, and I hope I didn't bring her wrath down upon you and your friends."

"Ah, who cares?" she responded cheerfully. "We've had to deal with _her kind_ as long as smart people and dumb people have walked the earth together."

Something about her words bothered me, but I was too preoccupied to think about it with the reentrance of Mrs. Finch. Her normal jaunty step was burdened down by a large thick book with a purple velvet cover and tassels hanging from the spine. The cover was strewn with ornate gold lettering, but there was too much glare so I couldn't make out what it said. 

There was a loud WHOMP when the book hit a table, as my teacher stood hunched over at the table, gasping for air. "I'll…be…right…back," she huffed to the class, then exited. 

"Just wait," Needa whispered excitedly to me, "this is the best part."

I knew not what Needa was so worked up about, but I quickly found out. Mrs. Finch came back in to the room. But the unusual thing was, she was wearing a long trailing black robe made out of…feathers. On her head was a similar headdress. 

I just stared wide-eyed, trying not to laugh. However, I _did_ turn and say to Needa, "Is this what happens every year?" She gave me an affirmative nod, and I directed my attention back to my teacher.

Mrs. Finch strode to the front-center of the room, and spread her arms (or wings, depending on how you saw it). She then said, in an ethereal tone, "Oh ye who art not yet the brethren (or of the sisterhood), come forward and arrange thyselves in an order most alphabetical.

Martin, Ralph, and I, along with several other unknown entities, proceeded to the front of the room. After inquiring as to the names of the unknown students, I placed myself third to last in line, in front of a Thatcher and behind Martin. And then the fun began.

"Akila? Dost thou be Akila?" asked Mrs. Finch of the first freshie in line. 

"Um…aye?" replied Akila, in an unsure tone, which got a laugh from the class.

"Very well… wouldst thou join the sacred brethren (and sisterhood)?"

"Yes," replied Akila more confidently than before.

"Very well. Sit, Sister Akila," the teacher intoned, gesturing to the ground in front of her.

One by one, Mrs. Finch performed the same ritual with all the other new freshies (substituting Brother or Sister when appropriate). Sister Akila, Brother Eoh, Sister Lee, Brother Prince, Brother Thatcher, Brother Wiggum… finally only I was standing. And when my teacher ordered my sitting peers to turn and face me, you can imagine that I felt awkward.

Mrs. Finch caught my gaze with her piercing grey eyes, and even if I had wanted to look away I couldn't have. "Hmm… If you all will allow me to depart from the script for just a minute," she started. "Before the induction, I'd just like to give you all a little background on our young murderess here."

My eyebrows shot waaay up, until I remembered something Homer once said to me. It was during his stint as alpha-crow that he informed me. "It's called a murder honey. A _murder_." A murder of crows. Of course. Holy Buddha were these people crow fanatics.

Mrs. Finch continued. "Miss Simpson grew up in a very very trying household, which included the notorious Bart Simpson-- " here whispers could be heard pervading the quiet of the room, whispers to the effect of "_THE _Bart Simpson?!", "-- and the local power plant safety supervisor, Homer Simpson." More ominous whispers ensued. Homer had quite a reputation in Springfield as the local thickheaded oaf. "SO you can see," she finished, "that our young Murderess Simpson has had to battle tremendous odds to make it to where she is today, and I for one believe that she deserves some recognition for that." 

The class clapped politely, but I stood there, fuming. How DARE she insult my family and me like that? No one but _I_ can say bad things about my family, because no one but _I_ has lived with them! And from the way she was talking, Bart and Homer were nothing more than a pair of stupid, lowbrow criminals, and that was definitely not true. Deep deep down they were very kind, and cared a great deal for me. Tears of anger sprung unbidden to my narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me," I said, in a low yet angry voice, "but I do not appreciate you talking about my family in that disrespectful way. I happen to love them a lot, and I would like you to realise that."

The room was pin-drop silent. Had the new girl just _reprimanded_ the teacher? The class waited with bated breaths to see what would happen.

To the complete and utter astonishment of everyone in the room, my befeathered teacher kowtowed to me. "I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not mean to disrespect you or your family, and I humbly apologise." She got up with a smile to me, and then addressed the rest of the class. "And now you see that indeed, Murderess Simpson is really the most apt for the position. Dost thou be Simpson?"

I looked her in the eyes. "Yes."

"Wouldst thou join the sacred brethren (and sisterhood) that is our organization, and wouldst thou lead thine team of peers, and wouldst thou in turn be lead by those who are your equals?"

I blinked at the change of oath, but still said, "Yes," without any contemplation. So they intended me to be a leader? Why not?

"Very well. Murderess Simpson, return to your seat. New Brothers and Sisters, please follow."

All of us freshies returned to our seats, where we were applauded for and high-fived by those upperclasspeople around us. Needa gave me a big hug and said, "Congratulations, Simpson!"

Mrs. Finch the addressed the class. "And as part of our Corvid tradition, I will now read from the Tome of the Brethryn Corvyde, our organization's compendium detailing all past and present members, as well as customs, rituals, and other technical workings." She flipped the book open to a certain page, and began to read from it. "I will now tell the story of how we began, how we middled, and where we are today.

"The Corvid Society began in 1472, when Sir Carroll Crowsley fell upon financial ruin. He was an unsuccessful alchemist, but had one of the most brilliant minds of his time. It was rumored that Einstein developed his Theory of Relativity on some of Sir Carroll's non-alchemical work.

"As no one would fund Sir Carroll's work, he gave in to financial ruin. With what money he had left, he booked passage aboard a small merchant vessel and left for Asia. While there, he used his intelligence to once again earn back his wealth through a highly questionable and less than exemplary market. Upon his return to England, he set up the Corvid Society, saying that never again would a brilliant mind such as his become forced to result to such desperate measures. And as he solicited the help of his other brilliant friends, the organization grew and grew. 

"It eventually grew in to what we are today, a program to help geniuses live their lives to their full potential despite social or financial status. Our school was among the first to instigate a high-school branch, because, surprisingly, our area has one of the highest genius-to-idiot ratios in the country."

Big surprise. Springfield was _full_ of idiots. It'd only be normal that we have geniuses to balance them out. 

"And because Springfield is chock full of geniuses, we tend to get jealous and resort to petty squabbling. I am, of course, referring to our outstanding rivalry with the Corvids of The Enriched Learning Center for Gifted Children.

A hiss echoed around the room from the upperclasspeople, and Mrs. Finch wore a most unsavory expression. "This feud has gone on for as long as both schools have been in existence, and unfortunately The Center usually comes out ahead. But last year we did come close—"

"I thought we agreed," interjected Soapy hotly, "that they _cheated_ to win the competition!" Murmurs of agreement littered the room.

"And _I_ thought," retorted Mrs. Finch, "that we agreed not to discuss this any further. They won by winning, and there's nothing now that we can do about it. So calm yourself McAllister, or you may not compete this year. And being Captain and all, I am certain that withdrawing is something you do not want to do."

"Dually noted," replied Soapy, and sat back down. Mrs. Finch relaxed her position. "As I was saying," she continued, "the rivalry between MBHS and The Center has always been fervid. And at the National Spring Knowledge Bowl, the competition is always the most heated. This year the prestige of our school is at stake, but I have high hopes for you all. Because the day we beat The Center will be a decisive victory for us all." The look in her eyes was indescribable, something akin to daydreaming mingled with a passion to beat the crap out of the Center Corvids. Everything was silent for a moment.

Finally she said, "Well, I think that about wraps it up. So before we break for the celebration that you all have now doubt prepared—"

"Mrs. Finch, wait a tick!" spoke up one girl. "What about the naming…?"

"Oh golly," exclaimed the teacher. "Thank you for reminding me Amaryllis! Oh yes, this is very important indeed? How could I have forgotten? Akila, Eoh, Lee, Prince, Turner, Wiggum! Report up front post-haste!"

Remaining in my seat, I watched my classmates go up. Mrs. Finch took on a solemn look, though her eyes were merry dancing stars. And then she explained. "Up until now, you have been strangers to us. But now that you are initiated, you are a member or our Corvine family. So you should feel like family, and we should get to know you better. So I want each of you to tell us your name, and what is significant about you that we should know, and that all the Corivdae after you should know, because what you say will be written down in the Tome for all to see."

She pulled out of her costume an enormous quill pen, and a bottle of black ink as well. She flipped to the back of the Tome, and proceeded to write something. Then she said, "Akila, please begin."

Akila stepped up. She was a tall girl, and she said, "My name is Rashira Akila. I love to run, and that is my one true passion in life. My other passion is Shakespeare, because Shakespeare wrote his plays for the ordinary man, so that everyone could enjoy them and not just the educated upper class."

Then squat, bespectacled Eoh stepped up; he was a nerd in every sense of the word. "My name is James Eoh, and my area of expertise is computer programming. I enjoy surfing as well, when I have the chance to take a break from scholastic endeavors to go to the beach." My eyebrows raised. The day I saw _this_ guy surfing is the day I would eat flying pig.

Now it was Lee's turn. She was a petite and pretty girl, and in my opinion, a bit airhead-looking too. "My name is Anna Lee, and I am a proud member of the Capital City chapter of the National Teenage Ecological Society for the preservation of the Country's Wild Areas." Oh well, I guess there really isn't anything to first impressions after all. I thought to myself, "We could have some interesting anti-developmental discussions."

Next was Martin. And I just shook my head in bemusement. How could a boy as nerdy as Martin Prince become a guy as…cool as Martin Prince? Eighth-grade pocket-protected short-shorted Martin Prince and become high-school rebel-without-a-cause Martin Prince. And did I forget to mention openly-gay-and-proud-of-it? Well, he was going with Nelson. Now whether these changes were for the better or the worse, that remains to be seen. "Hey everyone, I'm Martin Prince," he said, "and over the summer I became a man! So yeah…" Wow. How eloquent he had become.

The next up for this little game was Thatcher. "Hi, I'm Lee Thatcher," he said, staring at Anna Lee with a smile. "And if any of you get me mixed up with her, then I'll say thank you for the compliment." He batted his eyelashes at her, and the class laughed. He seemed like a good guy for me to have on my team. Definitely a laugh-and-a-half.

Now it was Ralph's turn. Ever since that mysterious rose on Valentines' Day last year (one flower I was _not_ allergic to, which rules out Milhouse), I wondered if maybe Ralph still had a thing for me. I hoped not, because I _definitely_ did not have a thing for him. However, my worst fears were confirmed when he said, "I'm Ralph Wiggum, and when I was in second grade I played George Washington in the school play." The rest of the class bust out in laughter, but I dared not as I caught the wry glance from Ralph. Argh, I was going to have to find some way to let him down gently, and I don't think another "Let's Bee Friends" card would work. Sheesh. Boys. Who needs them?

I sensed it was my turn to go up, but instead…

"Soapy, Celia, Theo, could you three please come up here…"

The three got up, and when I looked over at Theo, my heart did a funnyish kind of pang, because I _really_ thought that he would remember me. Although I suppose that his mind was more concerned with being super-smart than it was with remembering a lonely girl from his past. Ugh, my life was turning in to a soap opera, including all the badly overused clichés. Although I suppose the reason they are clichés is because, deep down, all people can identify, which makes people feel more at ease with whatever production happens to contain the cliché-- 

"…Simpson? Are you listening?" questioned Mrs. Finch in a reproachful tone. "Because we really do need you up here, you know…"

With a start, I realised that the entire class was staring at me as I was spaced out, absorbed in my own thoughts. I jumped up, knocked over my chair (to many giggles), righted it, and then blushing and mumbling "Excuse me," I quickly strode up to the front.

Soapy, Celia, and Theo were standing in an imposing triad, Celia with a long black feather in her hands, and all of them with identical feathers in their hair. It was quite silly looking, but from the solemnity I guessed I was not supposed to giggle. I walked up until I was equidistant from all three of them and the Soapy began to speak, the Tome held closed in his arms.

"We are the tree murderae of the MBHS Corvid Society. I am Benjamin, senior Murderer and captain of the MBHS Corvids. To my left is Priscillia, junior Murderess, and to my right is Thelonious, sophomore murderer. And now you, Simpson, tell as about yourself and why you think you have what it takes to be one of us."

I was equal to that challenge. "My name is Lisa Marie Simpson. I am a Buddhist, a member of Mensa, a sax player, a tree-hugger, and a vegetarian. But for your concerns, and for all that you have told me about yourselves, I am simply freshmen Murderess. "

A loud OOOOHHHH permeated the quiet of the room as all my classmates showed their appreciation for my remark. Soapy smiled at me, as did Celia, but Theo was looking down, and when he looked up his eyes caught mine, and I found that I just couldn't hold the gaze. So I looked at Celia, who motioned for me to turn around. I did so, and looked upon my classmates, and at Needa, who was smiling at me. I then felt Celia's hand on my shoulder as she said, "Thee I accept as one of us. I chargeth thee to carry out thy duties faithfully. Be of help to those under you, and be of cooperation to those your equals."

Over my shoulder, I heard Theo whisper, "Hold out your hands." I compiled, and felt the Tome pressed in to my awaiting arms. My muscles strained to support the weight. _Holy Buddha_ was this thing _heavy_!

On my other shoulder came the electrifying touch of Theo's as he placed his hand. "Thee I too accept as one of us. And thee I chargeth to be of loyalty and fealty to this grand and glorious organization, for as long as the breath remains in your body."

And then I felt Soapy's hands fiddling with my hair as he stuck the feather in. "So be it," he said, and then the three hugged me, and the class applauded loudly. TO be perfectly honest, it felt _really_ good to be hugged by Theo. And I thought I could hear a chant of "Lis-a! Lis-a!", which was soon taken up by the rest of my freshmen friends. And I'm not ashamed to admit that tears graced the corners of my eyes as I felt, at long last, some acceptance. And that felt better than anything else.

***

Cake. Balloons. Ribbons. Confetti. If I knew being a brain was so much fun, I wouldn't have tried to repress it for as long as I did.

It was the "After Initiation" party for the remainder of the day, and I was in a heated discussion with Anna Lee. I would have to say that she was, in fact, an utter genius and not an airhead like I originally thought. I thought we were getting along marvelously. And after finishing my discussion with her, and chatting with nearly everyone else, I found my way back to Needa.

"So, is this what being a Corvid is like all the time?" I asked, a mock-hopeful smile on my face.

"Not exactly. Usually it's work, work, work our tails off," she replied wistfully. "But it sure as seven hells beats normal school!"

"Agreed," I agreed as I lifted my gold plated fork to bring another bite of cake to my mouth from my gilded plate. "But isn't this all a little _extravagant_? I mean, are we really-- " I was about to say, "Are we really so much better than everyone else that we get such better treatment?" but unfortunately (or probably fortunately for me), Mrs. Finch walked up and said, "Lisa, could I speak with you for just a little bit?" I nodded, put my plate down, and followed her over to a pair of squishy armchairs in the corner next to the fireplace, in which was lit a cheerful fire. We sat down, and she picked up a bottle and poured some red liquid in a glass. "Wine?" she asked, handing me the glass.

I took it, but felt shocked doing so. "Aren't there _laws_ against giving minors alcohol? Because I am _definitely_ underage."

"Well Lisa, you'd' be surprised at the laws that do not apply to you in this room. For instance, you and your peers will be able to vote in the presidential elections before you turn 18."

I looked seriously at Mrs. Finch, then asked, "But _why_ do we get special treatment when group A and the rest of the school have to follow all the rules? Why do _we_ get gold-plated forks and gilt-china plates, when the rest of the school gets plastic forks and plastic trays? I don't consider myself better than them because I happen to be smarter."

"Are you _sure_ of that?" asked Mrs. Finch. "Are you _sure_ that deep down you do not consider yourself superior to your schoolmates?" She smiled a crinkly-eyed smile. "_Always_ check and double-check yourself, Lisa. You'd be surprised what you can learn about yourself. And always ask yourself the whys Lisa. The whats can not cover it, but the whys always will." And with that last cryptic remark, she swooped away featherly, leaving me dumbfounded as to the meaning of what she had just said. 

I put the wine down, and was about to walk away, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, and locked eyes with none-other than (you guessed it) Theo. But unlike last time, I couldn't have looked away if my life depended on it. His grey eyes, as they reflected the fire, burned in to my soul. And then he spoke.

"Once upon a time, I met a girl named Lisa."

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-- January 18, 2004 -- 

Oooo, after all this time I have left you with an evil cliffie! Oh the monstrosity of me! ;-)

::sniff:: I feel sorry for not updating since ::checks last chapter:: _HOLY GUACAMOLE_ OCTOBER? Wow am I a bad child… 

What genre is this story? I originally had it under angst, but I think it has evolved away from the angsty fic I intended to write. So I changed it to General, for the time being, but I'd like to know what you, the readers, think it should be.

Is this story becoming too cliché? Because if it is, I want someone to tell me soon.

A cookie and a Homer plushie (figuratively speaking, of course) to the readers who can tell me where I got the name of the rival school from! 

BIG HUGE EXTRAGRANDIMOSO THANK YOU to all the reviewers who reviewed the story and said they liked it! Those reviews really mean a lot to me. ::glomp::

I typed most of this chapter during my free exam period on Friday, so I guess school does have some uses after all. Who'd a thunk it? And I really should be studying for exams right now, but I _so_ do not want to. :-P

So has Theo finally come to his senses and remembered Lisa? Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see…

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R 


	8. Surprising News

A/N at the bottom…

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 8: Surprising News

Quiet. The house was quiet. It was a sad sight, really. In the past the house was never quiet. There was usually _something_ going on that gave the house a hustle and bustle atmosphere. But now, with most of its occupants gone, the house was often somber and quiet. 

So when the front door banged open violently, and a fervid Lisa Simpson stalked in, it was almost as if the house was appreciative, longing for something to happen.

~~~

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I stalked in to the house, slamming the door behind me. _What a first day_, I thought to myself. I ran up the stairs to my room. Sitting at my dressing table, I pulled out my trusty Log, and then proceeded to scribble furiously, almost to the point of illegibility.

~ Dear Log,

As you know, today was my first day at MBHS. And so much has happened, it will take quite some time to tell it all properly… ~

(I then filled up some 10 pages with the events of the day, and my impressions of the new school.)

~ …and so after Mrs. Finch left, I was left sitting by the fire. _Of course_ I put the wine down (though not without a second thought), then I was about to leave when Theo walked over to me. 

And the way the firelight reflected off his eyes! And then he said to me, "Once upon a time, I met a girl named Lisa."

Well, of course Log, this is _exactly_ what I had been waiting to hear all day! SO what do you think I said to this revelation? Something profound, or romantic, or intelligent? No, of course not. I said, "Well, that's nice. I'd thought you'd forgotten me." 

Now, Log, these words were absolutely mortifying, not to mention quite rude. You know, open mouth, insert foot. 

Well, Theo got this puzzled look on his face, and then he said to me, "Well, actually, I didn't forget you, but I _didn't_ realize who you were. You look way different than the last time I saw you."

Now, of course, Log, my brain and my mouth don't ever agree on the proper course of action. My brain wanted me to say, "Yeah, but now that your know who I am, we can be friends again." My mouth decided to say snidely, "Well, I had _better_ look different. It _has_ been six years."

I think Theo was a bit put off by this (I certainly would have been), because he said, "Yeah," and then an awkward silence followed. And log, my treacherous feet walked away from the awkward situation, and my mouth didn't even bother to say goodbye. So now Theo probably thinks I'm quite a 'big meanie', which may be true but I don't want him to know that. I think that tomorrow-- ~

I stopped writing as me ears caught the sound of the front door opening. My first thought was "Burglar," but then I realized that no burglar would stomp around as heavily as the person downstairs did. So then my brain went to "Homer," but this was almost as absurd, seeing how Homer didn't often come home before 11, if he came home at all.

But I suppose there's a first time for everything, because true enough, as soon as I got downstairs I saw the bulgy form of Homer. I yelled, "Hey, Dad! You usually don't come home so early." 

He turned around, and I was immensely glad to see that he wasn't drunk. Sure, he came home drunk less often now, but when he _did_, it was hell. He would usually start raging at anything that happened cross his mind, and when he did this I wasn't really sure how to deal with that. I usually just shut myself in my room while he crashed around downstairs, breaking things and throwing stuff everywhere. And in the morning he would be passed out on the couch, covered in his own saliva.

But today my father was not drunk, and in fact, seemed in no way out of the ordinary. He greeted me with, "Hi sweetie, does Daddy need a reason to come home early once in a while?"

"No Dad, of course not," I replied.

"Well, actually Lisa, I was wondering if we could go out to dinner tonight. I have some stuff I want to talk to you about."

A red flag went up in my mind; we _never_ went out to dinner to 'talk about stuff'. I wondered what it could possibly be that would cause such erratic behavior in Homer. "Sure, Dad," I replied. "Just give me a bit; there's something I want to finish."

"Yeah, I need some time too. How about 6 o'clock?" Homer asked.

After giving the affirmative, I went back up to my room, so I could finish my Log entry. 

~ Woah, big news. Homer wants us to go out to dinner so he can 'talk to me about stuff'. We rarely have long, involved conversations anymore; I wonder if I've forgotten how to. Ever since *that woman* left, Homer has been gone so often. I don't think he really works as much as he says; after all, it is _I_ who pays the bills and handles the income. (If I didn't, Homer would just drink all the money away.) I know that he doesn't get as much overtime pay as he should, if he works as long as he says. The question is, besides Moe's, where does he _go_ and what does he _do_ there?

This 'workaholic' phase ever since *her* departure is an improvement, I suppose, over lazy-ass Homer. But I wish that Homer wouldn't be so _serious_ all the time; he used to be so light-hearted. I miss that. ~ 

I closed my Log, then puttered around in my room until 6, when we left. The ride over was without conversation, mostly because I was listening to my music in my blue-and-black-flame Cracker Factory CD player, 'acquired' for me by Tommy. Though I think the color effect was ruined by my choice of music: Gershwin is not exactly the essence of punk.

We went to Luigi's (now owned by Luigi's brother, Mario; Luigi had died the previous winter). After getting our table and placing our orders (spinach alfredo for me), Homer asked me questions about school: Was it fun? Did I like my teacher? Were there any cute boys?

To the last question, I responded, "Any girl who said 'no' would be lying, Dad. Yes, there are cute boys."

Homer smiled, and asked in a teasing tone, "Is Langdon Auger there?"

"Dad, I have been over Langdon Auger for _years_," I said, rolling my eyes and smiling.

Our food arrived, and we both dug in with gusto. I have to say, I did inherit Homer's appetite, but thank Buddha that I didn't inherit his waistline. The point is, I was enjoying my food, but at the same time wondering. Homer didn't bring is here to talk about school, or Langdon Auger. I put down my fork and asked, "Dad, what did you want to talk to me about?"

With a sigh, Homer put down his fork (a monumental feat for one so gluttonous), wiped his mouth, and started talking. "Lisa, sweetie, you know that recently I've bee working a lot more, right?"

__

Sure, I thought sarcastically, but nodded yes. 

"Well, my boss told me today that he's been impressed by the way my work habits have gotten a lot better. He offered me a promotion, and with it, a raise."

My jaw dropped. A _raise_ and a _promotion_? Were we talking about the same Homer here? It then dawned on me that Homer had changed a _lot_ more than I knew.

Homer smiled, then continued. "The thing is, if I decide to accept this promotion, there are certain… conditions… that go with it."

The red flag popped up again. "What kinds of conditions?" I asked suspiciously.

Homer cleared his throat, then, "Well, I'm going to have to do a little traveling." 

Oh, I thought. "That's all?" I asked. "Just a little traveling? Where, and how long, and how often?"

Homer responded, "I'm leaving next week for Toronto. I'll be there for five months."

Thunk. There went the jaw again. "_Toronto_?! As in _Canada_?! For _five months_?!" I asked rather loudly and stupidly. Everyone around us stared. "Does that mean we're moving to Toronto?" Oh, the unfairness of it all! I had finally found acceptance, only to have to move away from it!

Homer replied (much more calmly), "Well, see, that's the thing. Five months, though that seems like a long time, will go by really quickly. Before we know it, we'll be having to move back here. So I was wondering, Lisa, if you'd be willing to stay here while _I_ go to Toronto. I think you're responsible enough to manage things; after all, you already pay the bills and do the grocery shopping and stuff like that."

"Wow," I said, "that's quite a situation indeed. Yeah, I'll do it." Kind of a no-brainer really. The house to myself for five months? I mentally tented my fingers, Burns-style, and thought,_ eeeexcellent. _ "You can depend on me, Dad."

"I thought so," he said affectionately. He beamed at me and we finished our food happily. I must admit, I hadn't felt that close to my dad in a long time.

* * *

"I should burn the school down," I grumbled angrily to myself as I climbed in to bed. "Then I won't have to go to bed at 10 o'clock like some baby." I knew, from experience, that if I didn't get enough sleep I could get bad migraines, which were definitely not pleasant. On weekends, I could get all the sleep I wanted, but school days were different. So a 10 o'clock bedtime was crucial, but also a definite pain in the ass.

I snuggled down in my covers and turned out the light. Nighttime was my thinking time, because I didn't have the obnoxious light to distract me and pervade my train of thought. Sleeping was the best part of my day: no cares, no worries, no complications. Only comfort and happiness. 

I think that if I had to die, I would want to die in my sleep, painlessly and easily. There _was_ always the chance that I'd go to sleep and never wake, and I had to wonder if that would be so bad: if sleep is happiness, then eternal sleep is eternal happiness.

The dream that I had that night, however, was definitely not happy. Honestly, it was quite disquieting. I was an astronaut aboard the International Space Station, along with another fellow astronaut. We were the only ones aboard, and we did everything together: eating, working out, fixing equipment, conducting experiments, etc. We were the best of friends.

Then, one day, we had to go outside the Space Station to conduct repairs on it. We both tied each other's lifelines, then drifted out and began to work. Suddenly, an alien flew up in a spaceship. The alien came out of the spaceship, then tied up its lifeline next to mine. Then the alien sidled up to my astronaut partner, and they whispered to one another, holding each other's hands, excluding me. The alien turned towards me, and I could see her large, dark, mocking eyes. She severed my lifeline, and pushed me off into space. 

It was terrifying to be that way, spinning through space for hours and hours, knowing that I would eventually die a terrible death of starvation without my partner there to help me.

I woke up in a cold sweat, tangled in my blankets. I looked over at the clock: 1:13 am. Sighing, I turned back over to try and sleep, wondering what this terrible premonition meant for me.

****

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March 6, 2004

Well, what _does_ Lisa's dream mean? I don't think it's hard to figure out…

I would have had this up sooner, but after writing it all out (on notebook paper), I didn't feel like typing it. Plus I was working on that stupid HP story that grew much long that I had intended… But I shouldn't make excuses.

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A BIG SQUISHY HUG AND A THANK-YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED. YOU ALL DESERVE A HOMER PLUSHIE! ::throws out handfuls of Homer plushies::

I'll try and have the next chapter out before April, but I'm not promising anything. I started this story last April and all I've done is 8 chapters. _ 

Happy trails to you until we meet again.

R/R? Please?

~$E@0K|\|@R|\|@R~


	9. The Telephone

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June 1, 2004

::takes out big bat, proceeds to go Dobby on herself:: Bad authoress! OW! Bad authoress! OW OW! Well, if you wish to look on the positive side, it _has_ been less than 2 months… ; But in all honesty, I _had_ intended to update sooner, but I've been working on school stuff ( EXAMS COMING UP! ::hyperventilates:: )and other fanfics.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for all your patience! I am **ASTOUNDED** at the number of reviews I have gotten! At this point, it's at **96** (::eyes bug out::), and seeing as how I haven't updated since April, that is **incredible**, and makes a lazy authoress soooo happy. So GIANT SQUISHY HUGS AND KISSES TO ALL WHO REVIEWED CHAPTER 8!

Ignore all the random dots everywhere, that's the only way I could get it to do the spacing properly ::grinds teeth::.

More after the chapter…

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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**Chapter 9: The Telephone**

One Friday afternoon in mid-October (where _had_ the weeks gone?), I was walking home with Needa and Anna, and also with the reserved Akila and the charismatic Amaryllis. We had been absolute basket cases at school all day, because we were (somewhat juvenily) excited about the overnight we had planned. After all, Homer was out of town, so why _shouldn't_ we take advantage of the empty house? (Of course, in hindsight, it was not a very good idea, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

In fact, we had been so loud and vocal during school about the topic when we _should_ have been doing conic sections, Mrs. Finch had given us detention (a first for me, and I will not soon forget it). Which explained why we were walking home through the chilly October afternoon, with my four companions lugging their overnight things with them.

"I _can't_ believe none of you have seen the _Re-Deadening_!" exclaimed Needa exuberantly. "It's the greatest! The best part is when the girl is sitting in the room, and the doll—"

"C'mon, don't ruin it for them!" I interjected. "Besides, you're _wrong_. The _best_ part is when the gardener—"

"OK, _both of you_ shut up! We can decide the best part for ourselves, thank you very much," yelled Anna. "And besides, that movie came out, what, _six years ago_? I was only seven! What parent would let a seven-year-old see that movie?"

"Well, Homer dragged Bart, Rodd, Todd, and me to that movie, and forced us to watch it," I said, smiling while reminiscing. "Of course, that was when Todd was still the pathetic Todd, not the Tommy I know and love today."

"Ooh, Lisa's got a boyfriend!" chorused Amaryllis, an overenthusiastic sophomore that was more Needa's friend than mine.

"Hardly," I replied dryly. "He was my best friend – my best _platonic_ friend – before he moved away. And he was quite a character, too." I told them stories of Tommy's escapades all the way home, and whether they were amused or not, it _did _help to stave off the cold.

()-()-()

"This is the couch," I said, pointing to the old orange couch, "this is the TV, and these are sodas. Feel free to help yourselves to all of the above. I'll just get the Soy Crunchies, in the kitchen."

I left a room full of loud, enthusiastic, high-on-life girls to retrieve our favorite snack. My eyes fell upon the telephone, and I decided that it might be wise to tell Homer that I was having a wild sleepover in our house.

"There better not be any _boys_ at this so-called 'Sleep Over'," he told me in a suspicious tone.

"No Dad, just four of my all-female friends," I told him. "Well, I just called to inform you. Now we have Soy Crunchies to eat, and a movie to watch." As I hung up, I could hear him saying, strangely enough, "Bleagh, eeww, yuck, I'll take the Crab Juice!" on the other end.

"Took you long enough," said Anna upon my return. "We were just about to have a four-person orgy to pass the time."

"You know," I said with a raised eyebrow, "if you all would rather _get physical_ than watch the movie, we have a lovely hammock out back, and I think it'll seat four."

Needa said, "Nah, I think we'd rather have the Crunchies."

I started the movie, and watched the previews as the four ravenous teenage-girl hyenas tore into the bag of Crunchies (Anna was growling at the other three, as she bared her teeth and stole the bag.) But we all told each other to shut up, because it would ruin the mood of the movie.

An hour later, you could not have found a more terrified group of girls. We were all huddled together, biting our nails in terror. Even for me and Needa, who had seen the movie before, it was scary as hell.

.

**"That's it," said the Dolly, "Pick up the phone and call the gardener. Tell him that he has an appointment with the Dolly."**

**"But, Dolly," the girl said fearfully, "the gardener has done nothing to you! Why do you seek vengeance?"**

**"CALL HIM!" roared the psychotic dolly. "And tell him that he can not escape the power of the Dolly! I will find him and I will EAT his SOUL!"**

**The scared girl reached out a trembling hand to pick up the phone…**

****

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…And the phone next to the couch rang.

If you have never been in a room with 5 hysterical girls screaming their heads off, then I would recommend against it, as it was very detrimental to my hearing. As it was, I was buried at the bottom of a quivering mass of girls, screaming as loud as any of them.

It was only when we looked at each other sheepishly that we disentangled ourselves, and I proceeded to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" I asked tentatively. I knew I was being silly, but if a high-pitched voice answered at the other end, I was prepared to jump out the window and never return.

The voice, however, was not a high-pitched girl voice, but a deep guy's voice. "Hey, my beloved Spike, it is your Tommy!"

"Holy shit, Tommy, you scared the crap out of us!" I explained about the movie, and the sleepover, and he was roaring with laughter at the thought of us cowering in fear.

I said to my friends, who had paused the video, "You all go on, I think I'm going to be on the phone for a while with _Tommy_." Of course, Amaryllis giggled, but they continued _The Re-Deadening_ while I went out back to the aforementioned hammock.

"So Tommy, how long do we have before you need to get back?" I asked.

"That's the beauty, Lis, I'm _not_ going back!"

"…What?" Had I heard right?

"Yeah. I woke up this morning, and decided, 'Enough is enough.' I was sick of the way everyone in that stupid community was trying to control me, and boss me around, so I just packed up some things and left."

"… Where are you staying?" This news rather concerned me, as rebellious as I like to think I am. His action seemed a little drastic.

"I don't know yet. There's a sweet little park nearby, and I think I'm going to stay there tonight. It has a really nice pavilion."

"Tommy. What were you THINKING? You're a 15-year-old boy who has no money, and no job, and no transportation! How are you going to get an apartment, or food, or—"

"Holy Buddha, you're such a _wet blanket_! Since when did you go all mother hen on me? I thought you would be _happy_ that I managed to escape, and that I'm doing something for _myself_ for a change instead of depending on other people!" The disappointment was apparent in his tone.

"I wholeheartedly congratulate you for defying the establishment, Tommy, but I'm _worried_ about you, you big dope! I'm worried that you're going to end up selling crack on a street corner!" It felt good to be frank with my emotions again; I had been keeping them quite hidden, seeing as how I had no one to express them to.

"I promise you, milady, that if it gets that bad I'll go to a church or something where they'll take pity on me and ship me back to Springfield. But I can_not_ return to that fanatic of a father of mine."

"Well, Tommy, you know that my house is always open to you, if you can find a way back."

"Well, it sounds that some interesting stuff is happening at your place tonight. So tell me about this Girl-on-Girl party you're having?"

I rolled my eyes, and we talked for a while longer. Finally, we hung up, and I returned to the living room to find the movie in its final suspenseful minutes.

The opportunity was too good to pass up. "BOO!" I shouted, making them all jump about a foot in the air, and then I was hit with a myriad of pillows and Soy Crunchies.

**()-()-()**

It was 2:30 in the morning, and our fun was finally winding down. In fact, after squabbling for prime positions in my bedroom, we were settling into our sleeping bags, ready to hit the sack.

The lights were off, but none of us were yet asleep. So of course, the normal nighttime conversations broke out, about who was sleeping with whom, and who had gotten to what base, and so on.

Well, they were talking about those smutty topics, but I was silent, deep in thought. Presumably, Tommy was out there somewhere, trying to sleep in a public pavilion in some park somewhere. What if he got attacked by some wild animal? Or maybe by some bloodthirsty gang, who would mug him and leave him, bruised and bloodied, in a dumpster, and the police would find him the next morning…

I suppose my silence was quite conspicuous, because Needa asked me, "Hey, Lisa, are you asleep? Because if you are, then we've found our target for practical jokes…"

"You 'shaving-cream' _me_ and you'll regret it," I said threateningly, making everyone laugh. "But really, I'm thinking of that movie…" I didn't want to talk about the conversation I had, and mentioning the movie was sure to generate a new thread of discussion.

"Oh GOD, that joke of yours was not funny!" said Amaryllis. "And at the most scary part too… when the Dolly was crawling out of the television set, ready to kill that old man…"

"Oh god… and the way he opened his eyes, and saw the Dolly staring _right at him_," added Akila. "That was waaaay too startling for me!"

We went silent, and I'm sure that everyone else was thinking exactly what I was thinking. I was observing how the tree was starting to lose its leaves, and become bare-branched, and how those bare branches were scraping on the window like brittle, sharp fingers. And I was noticing how the moonlight cast eerie shadows around my room… and how several of those shadows were vaguely doll-shaped…

There was a loud intake of breath as we heard a distinct scratching sound against the front door downstairs. Yes, it was loud enough for all of us to hear. And the noise didn't end there… we could hear bumps and thumps, and even the sound of faint creepy music. And I knew that I wasn't imagining it, because I could tell from all the cowering that everyone else could hear it too.

When I heard the ominous chuckling coming from outside, I decided then and there that I would not live to see tomorrow. And I told everyone else as much, to many muttered agreements.

"Oh, c-come on, you g-guys," stuttered Anna. "L-l-look at us, shaking like babies. I d-don't know about you all, but I'm g-going down to s-see what is making that noise!" She got up rather shakily, and then asked sheepishly, "Does anyone wanna come with me?"

"Oh, I'll go with you," said Akila boldly. "I'm not…too… afraid of any stupid rag dolls!"

"Gah," I grumbled, "I suppose that, seeing as how I'm the hostess, I have to go to prevent you all from being horribly axe-murdered."

"Good," said Amaryllis. "Me 'n' Needa will stay at the top of the stairs, and watch from a safe distance while you all are slaughtered."

We all tiptoed out of the room, and on the way, I stopped in Bart's dusty room and grabbed a conveniently placed baseball bat. Then we slowly and tentatively headed towards the front door, listening to the loud sounds coming from outside.

Well, as was expected, Anna chickened out and decided to stay at the top of the stairs with the sophomores. Akila and I descended the stairs, and I signaled to her to open the door, while I positioned myself, the bat over my shoulder in a slugging position.

Without warning she yanked open the door, and I saw the dark shapes standing on the stair. So reflexively, I swung at the closest one.

It's probably a good thing I'm so bad at sports, or I would have brained James Eoh. As it was, as the bat swished right in front of him, he said, "HOLY SHIT!" and stumbled backwards, knocking all the other guys down with him.

I turned the porch light on, and saw a heap of guys that consisted of Martin, Ralph, Lee Thatcher, and James, as well as Chester Shim and Ox, sophomores, and to my utter mortification, Theo.

I offered a hand to James, who was at the top of the heap, and once he was up, I said, "What the HELL is the big idea? And why the HELL are you all at my house at 2:30 in the morning!"

James smiled a very owlish smile [Does that even make sense?!], and said, "You all were so loud and exuberant today, we felt quite left out of your plans. So we decided to crash the party!"

"And when we heard that you were watching _The Re-Deadening_, we couldn't help but try to scare you out of your wits!" added the ever-smiling Lee.

"Lee Thatcher!" screeched Anna from the top of the stairs. She ran down so she could berate him face to face. "How dare you be so cruel and malicious! You almost scared the shit out of all of us!"

"And yet I know you love me."

"God, I hate it when you're right."

Of course, we all made the appropriate "AWWWWW!" noises, and then, seeing as how it was approximately 20 degrees outside, I invited the guys in.

Let me tell you, when a large group of hyperactive teenagers is having an unsupervised part at 2:30 in the morning, you can hardly expect the best. So don't ask me how it happened, but within five minutes of them coming in, the lights were all on, music was blaring from the system in the corner, and someone had produced all the snack foods I had put away earlier.

I winced as I felt the Crunchies crumbs crunch under my feet and grind into the rug as I proceeded to turn the speakers down to an audible level. "WOAH, WOAH, WOAH," I yelled over the noise. They very courteously quieted down for me, and I said, "The walls of this cheap house are paper thin, and the neighbors can hear everything. Please, I don't want the cops called out, can we just keep it down?"

They acquiesced, and within minutes, had a game of "Strip-or-Sip Spin the Bottle" going.

Lee went first, and spun the bottle. It ended up pointing at Akila, who nudged it with her foot until it pointed at Anna. Both Anna and Lee smiled, and they went off somewhere private to what I assumed would be a good make-out session.

Akila went next, and her spin landed on Chester Shim. "OK, Akila, darling," he said, "Would you like to snog? Or will you be taking something off?"

"Ha ha," she responded. "Just pass me that liquor," she said, pointing to the mysterious bottle of brown liquid that she took an obligatory swig of.

James went next, and, rather than make out with me, he elected to remove his shoes. I must say, my feeling were not hurt by this action; rather, I was relieved that I wouldn't have to do anything with him. I hadn't kissed before, and I didn't want my first kiss, a very special event, to be the result of a drinking game.

Several more spins (and more sips from the liquor), and finally it was my turn. I figured, _Why not?_, and spun the bottle.

Well, loyal reader, you can probably figure out whom it ended up pointing towards. All I'll say is that Buddha was being a very cruel Buddha that night, giving me a chance that I _knew_ I could not take with the guy I liked most.

He looked at me with those kind blue eyes that had not long ago reflected the fire, and he asked me, smiling, "So? You wanna?"

I think I hesitated a bit too long, because everyone stared at me as I blushed. To break the silence, I quickly said, "Pass that liquor," and took a big gulp. It burned going down, and brought tears to my eyes, but made me feel slightly less embarrassed.

Theo continued with the bottle, but I stopped paying attention, because I was too busy thinking about what had just happened. The scary thing is, I was close to saying "Yes" to Theo's question, but then my common sense had kicked in. _You haven't been getting along so well with him lately. Besides school duties, you haven't talked to him, and you don't even see him outside of school. It would be one thing if you were like Lee and Anna, but you hardly know Theo. _I understood the valid points my brain made, and agreed with it 100%.

Still, I thought as the game progressed, _it would have been one hell of a first kiss._

**()-()-()**

I woke up with a splitting headache and an aversion to the too-bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Around me, everyone else was still asleep or passed out, and the whole room was a total mess. _And we're supposed to be the best of the best, with the most intelligence around. HAH._

Those guys are gonna be in sooo much trouble with their parents for not going home last night, I thought with some satisfaction, because they had been the cause of this headache and I was eager to blame someone other than myself for getting a hangover. _All their fault_.

I went to the bathroom to get the aspirin (for me and for everyone else, when they woke), and when I passed the dining room, I saw Lee and Anna curled up very cutely (and fully clothed, to my relief) on the floor. _Lucky duckies_, I thought incoherently. _They won't have hangovers…_

When I got back to the family room, I could hear groans from the others sprawled everywhere, in various states of undress (but nothing TOO bad). I looked around until I spotted Theo. He looked so comfortable, curled up on the couch the way Santa's Little Helper used to. I had a strong inclination to go join him in a peaceful repose of my own.

However, noise from the corner of the room made me cease my daydreaming. Martin was stirring, and then he opened his bloodshot eyes, and immediately cursed the 'glaring light'.

"Here, you'll need this," I said, handing him the aspirin. "And I think the others will, too, when they wake from their drunken stupors."

I surveyed the damage caused by our party, and thought wistfully, _Tommy would have loved this._

****

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I've been reading Yu-Gi-Oh fanfic all morning, and now my brain feels like mush. I hope this chapter was coherent enough to understand. Damn addictive fanfics… Though I couldn't live without them…

Yay, I invented a new variation of "Spin the Bottle". I'm so accomplished…

That chapter wasn't too over the top, was it? Thought I'm not sure what I would consider "over the top"… I need to get back into the swing of this story…

I actually started writing this chapter a loooong time ago, right after the "Re-Deadening" episode first aired, but never finished it until I got motivated today.

EEEKKK! Exams! See, I'll do anything, including update fanfic (jkjk) to avoid studying. WAAAAAHHHH!

_STUPID NEW SYSTEM_! ff.net won't let me use the carrot thingies anymore! I can't make my happy faces anymore! HOW am I supposed to convey that I'm HAPPY?!

This chapter's only 3,400 words long! ::frustrated grunt:: WHY can I never write a 4,000-word chapter??

Chapter 7 was only **four** words short of 4,000! D'oh!

Shutting up now…

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**v**

**(o) (o)**

**Seaoknarnar is watching you review…**

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	10. Two Letters

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Spinning for Hours

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by Seaoknarnar

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Chapter 10: Two Letters

It was quite late when I got home. So late, in fact, that it was quite early. Our living room clock read **2:13 am**.

I had been at a Christmas Eve party at Anna's house, and our entire class had been there. And unfortunately, her parents had been there, so our activities were limited to the more conventional ones, like watching Christmas movies, stuffing our faces on red-and-green snack foods, and gossiping about people at school.

Another of our activities had been Secret Snowman (a nondenominational version of Secret Santa). I had gotten Sandy, a junior, a pretty photo album and a large, scented candle. You know, nice, impersonal gifts, considering that I didn't know her very well. Steven, a senior, had gotten me an awesome sun-and-moon necklace, and though I don't generally wear too much jewelry, I had to admit that it was a perfect necklace for me.

Lee and Anna had 'suspiciously' been each others' Secret Snowmen. He had gotten her a very pretty, and very expensive looking, bracelet. When her parents were in another room, she revealed her gift for him, a thong, which had raised a laugh from everyone. But after her real present, a nice wallet, the two had shared a kiss that had made even me a bit jealous. I had been thinking about the sophmore sitting on the ottoman, joking with his friends.

Now it was 2:13, but I was still wide awake from drinking lots of highly caffeinated soda, and eating red-and-green Dixie Stix. And of course, I had that natural high that comes from being with a group of really close friends for a few hours and having a blast with them.

For the longest time, I didn't know what that feeling felt like. The most similar experience I can think of is back when we were a family of five, and had just escaped from some harrowing adventure or another. Those gave me a good kind of high, being safe at last with my family close by.

But of course, we ceased to be a family, and I was not the most popular girl in school. I had forgotten what it felt like to be with a bunch of people who cared for you deeply, and understood you, and made you feel at home.

I had missed the home feeling for too long.

Thinking about my family, I looked over to the two letters on the kitchen table. I had been saving them for Christmas. (Yes, I know that I'm a Buddhist, but I had celebrated the Christmas tradition most of my life. It was a hard habit to break.) One was from Homer, I could see from the messy, crooked printing. The other was either from Marge or from Bart. Considering the numerous letters from Marge that I haven't bothered to reply to, I don't think she'd be likely to write any more to her ingrate older daughter.

Well, Lisa, technically it is_ Christmas. And since you _know_ that Santa's not going to be bringing anymore presents, why not open the letters now?_

I turned on the kitchen light, and got out the letter opener. _Which letter should I open first?_

I decided on Homer's letter first. It was rather thick, and once I opened it, I knew why. A bunch of twenty dollar bills fell out onto the table, with a note. **Merry Christmas, Sweetie, or whatever it is you celebrate in that crazy religion of yours. Love, Daddy.**

It was a thoughtful gesture from Homer, but quite unnecessary, seeing as how _I _was the one who managed the family bank account. I could have taken all the money I wanted. But I did appreciate the somewhat-thoughtful gesture from Homer.

A letter accompanied the wad of cash. This is what I was really looking forward to, because I hadn't called Homer in a month, and he hadn't called me, and I was starting to miss him.

Dear Lisa,

Hello Sweetie! Hopefully everything is going well at home. I sure wish you had come with me to Canada, because I miss my little girl.

This made me smile, and I could feel tears in my eyes at this unusual tenderness Homer was showing.

Everything is going well here. My job is good, and Lennie and Carl say hi. And guess what! I went on a Canadian game show, and they bet me that I couldn't eat 20 pounds of Maple Syrup, and I did, and they gave me a luggage set!

Mr. Burns promoted me again, so you should be seeing more money in the old bank for us! Take what you need, and hopefully my Christmas present will help you too.

Actually, besides wishing you a Merry…Buddha thingy…I wrote because I have some rather important news I needed to share with you. Back in September, I had told you that I would be in Canada for five months. I was supposed to be back around the end of January.

Unfortunately, I'm going to have to stay in Canada for more time than I thought. I have business that I didn't finish up in the time they gave me, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to be up here.

I hope you aren't too sad at this news. I assume stuff has been going well for you, because you haven't told me otherwise. You know that if you ever need to talk to me, you can call, and I won't care that it's a long distance call or anything like that. I'm only a telephone number away.

You remember, a long time ago, when you used to stay with me at work when I had to work late? I was thinking about that while on one of my late-night shifts. Are you sure you don't want to come up to Canada? There's a school near where I live, and there're some kids your age. They have green hair and pierced eyebrows. You like those kinds of things, right? They offered to sell me some colorful candies with cartoon characters on them, but I was drinking Skittlebrew and turned them down.

Candy. Poor, naïve Homer…

Anywho, I have to get to work. My boss will be mad if I'm late. I hope this letter reaches you in time for Christmas (or whatever your holiday is). Merry Christmas, Sweetheart, and don't forget to call every now and then.

Love,

Daddy

I wiped some tears from my eyes. It was nice to hear from my dad again, and after four months alone at home, I was missing him. But now, with this news of his about staying in Canada even longer than he had expected, I heaved a sigh. I suppose I was in for some more time alone, much to my disappointment.

My eyes turned to the other letter, with hopes that it would cheer me up. It was quite beat-up looking, and there were some mysterious stains on the envelope. But looking at the handwriting, I could tell, despite the lack of return address, that it was a letter from Bart, from inside the Juvenile Correction Center he was incarcerated at.

I believe I mentioned earlier that Bart was away at juvie hall. He had been found breaking and entering, and possessing illegal firearms, and on top of his past delinquent record, it was enough to put him away for quite a while. Every now and then, he would send me letters, but they were always heavily censored by the juvie screeners, so he never actually got to tell me what he wanted to tell me. His absence from the house made it feel all the more unusually quiet, as it had been feeling recently.

I cut open the envelope, and pulled out the letter, which was written on a dingy piece of crumpled paper.

Dear Lis,

Well, how's my younger sis? Everything going ok? That boyfriend of yours, that punk Todd, is he treating you well?

I had to role my eyes at this. Bart never understood, nor respected, my friendship with Tommy. Bart and Homer were not too fond of the Flanderses.

How's Homer? Still butt-kissing Mr. Burns? And any word from Marge or Maggie? Shit, I know how you feel about them. I feel the same way. But who knows.

I managed to 'convince' a guy who had connections to get this letter out to you. He had a person who was smuggling him stuff, and so I threatened to beat him unless he got this letter smuggled out to you. Take that, damn screeners!

I must admit, Lis, that around this place I am somewhat of a king. It helps that most of the guys are younger and smaller than I am. And I've been spending months turning that infamous Simpson fat into pure muscle, baby! I can beat up practically anyone here, and around here, strength speaks louder than words.

But Lis, I've been hearing discussion lately that, I'll admit, scares me. I have ears all over this complex, and they've been telling me that They (our ever-watchful cruel overseers) have been complaining about the crowded state of this place. They've been thinking about transferring some of us older guys to the State Prison.

Lis, I may be King of Juvie, but the state prison!? That's where they have the murderers, rapists, thieves, drug lords, serial killers, homicidal maniacs, and other complete sickos! Do you know what they'd do to a guy like me? Sure, my strength may be superior in juvie, but they have guys in the prison that make Rainier Wolfcastle look like Cinderella (in strength and in beauty). They say that there are only three ways to survive prison for an extended period of time.   
1) Become a guy with muscle that can beat up anyone else.   
2) Become the 'love child' of a guy with muscle, and use him to keep the others away while he uses you for 'other things'. (In NO WAY do I want to do this!!!)  
3) Become devoutly, devoutly, religious. (This is even more unlikely, considering who I am.)

I'm sorry if I'm ruining your holidays, but I need to get you to understand why it is I'm doing the things I do. I've been seriously, seriously considering running away, and going on the lamb. I WILL NOT _wait around to be shipped off to prison, and they're not sending me there without a fight!_

I'm sorry if I'm disappointing you with my plans of escape, but I hope you'll understand. You're my best friend Lis, more than Milhouse or anyone could ever be. Wish me luck, even if you think I'm doing the wrong thing.

Happy holidays. Love, your brother,

Bart

I had to wipe some more tears from my eyes. _No, Bart,_ I thought. _I think you're doing the right thing, and I wish you luck with your escape, and hope you end up somewhere good._

I looked down at the two letters on the table, and wondered what had happened to our once-happy family. I thought back to the old days, when Marge would be baking brownies, and Homer would be out back in the hammock, and Bart, Maggie, and I would be watching TV. I thought of all the time we had in the past to enjoy our good life, and always took it for granted that everything would always stay the same.

But that was before Marge and Maggie ran away to Europe. Before Bart got sent to the Juvenile Center. Before Homer became a work-a-holic, and went off to Canada. Our family, once so close in everything we did, was now spread out across the wide, cruel world.

Well, I decided, _no more taking things for granted. No more idealistic waiting around for things to get better than they already are. Time to take some action._

I got the school directory, which was lying on the table. I quickly flipped to the 'M's, looking up the name of a certain someone I had been meaning to talk to for a long time already. I located his telephone number, and reached out to the phone hanging on the wall.

Then my senses came back to me. It was nearly 3 in the morning on Christmas Day, which was hardly a reasonable time to call someone. And once I did call, what was I going to say? _I better think this out before I do anything stupid._

Well, I was going to have to wait to call Theo, but since my brain was buzzing anyway from being up too late, and I could feel a migraine coming on, I decided it would be wise to go to bed.

My dream that night was rather unsettling. Perhaps it was the result of soda and Dixie Stix, but whatever it was, it left me feeling majorly creeped out.

I was dressed in 1600s colonial costume, as was the rest of my class. We were at a trial, and I was being poked and prodded by everyone. For some reason, Tommy was there, and he stood up, pointed a finger at me, and said, "WITCH!" I said to him, "How could you do this to me? I'm your friend!" Blood started to drip from his mouth, and cuts opened up on his arms and face. He wailed a terrible, bone-chilling wail.

Then everyone else stood up, and said, "Witch! Witch! Burn the witch!" They tied me to a stake, and set me in the middle of the town. On a stake next to mine, Theo was also tied up and about to be burned. I asked him, "Will I ever see you again?"

He replied. "Yes. We'll meet up in the underworld, with Glinda and all the other good witches who were only trying to do the right thing."

I don't know if I was burned or not, because at that point I woke up, tangled in sweaty, twisted sheets. Perspiration fell from my brow as, outside, snow fell gently for the first white Christmas in many years.

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July 15, 2004

Important: Very, very soon now, I am planning to change my pen name. My new pen name will be **Sir Mocha**, so look for this story under that name. Got it? Good.

Ah, sorry about the shortness of the chapter. But the other night, I stayed up until 3 in the morning, writing out the plot for the rest of the story. Yes, an actual **plot** that will begin very shortly! I need a few filler chapters beforehand to set up the plot, and this is one of them. AA I love foreshadowing…

As of right now, this story has three potential endings.

1) A happy, happy ending. (Makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)

2) A sad, tragic ending. (But very appropriate.)

3) A satisfying, but wide open, ending that will, ultimately, lead to a sequel.

I was just wondering what kind of ending you all are looking for. Though it'll be my decision in the end, I'd like to have some input from you, the reader.

I have an idea in my mind for a sequel, but my updating on this story has been so abysmal, I don't know if it'd be a good idea to drag it on into another story. And there are still a bunch of chapters to this one. I guess we'll see, won't we? But if I do a sequel, it's going to be from the POV of a much-neglected character, and in my opinion, one of the coolest. But no more about that now.

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BIG THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! With 100 reviews, you guys make me feel so special! Even flamers make me happy that they took the time to voice their opinions about this story. Not that I enjoy getting flames, but I guess they're better than nothing. (The best flames are the ones so poorly written that they make me laugh.)

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A...A


	11. The Start of Something Big

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**Spinning for Hours**

**-O-**

_by Sir Mocha (!!!)_

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

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**Chapter 11: The Start of Something Big**

"Yes, I think that winter months are possibly the best months of the year," said Needa with conviction.

"Are you crazy? Yeah, winter is the best if you like subzero temperatures and runny noses," I replied a bit sourly.

"Well, I meant foodwise. The best foods are in winter. There are savory stews, and hot chocolate—"

"And veggie pot pies?" I added, taking a big bite out of my delicious lunch. "I'll have to agree with you there. Nothing beats a nice pot pie with a group of friends."

"Awww...you'll make me cry from all the smarm," said Akila. We all laughed.

It was the last week in January, and for once, I had decided to eat in the Corvid Dining Hall. Needa, Akila, Anna, several others, and I had forsaken the frigid halls of the school (which maintained that heating was too expensive for the average Springfield taxpayer), and had instead chose to dine in the Corvid Dining Hall.

I looked in complacency towards the roaring fire that heated the room very pleasantly. We had snagged a table in the middle of the room, and the combination of warmth and satiation of hunger was making me very drowsy indeed.

"So," said Anna, "I wonder what the 'Big Surprise' is that Mrs. Finch is going to tell us about after lunch. Knowing her, she'll probably give us another physics project on top of the molecular bio one we already have. Sometimes I think it's waaaay too much work to be smart."

"I have no clue," I added, "but I hope that it's something that won't be too stressful. With the band concert coming up, and that stupid bio project and English essay, I'm working hard enough already. Another big project could be disastrous."

At the time, I didn't realize just how disastrous everything was going to get.

**-O-**

"Well, my beloved students, I believe that I promised you all a surprise after lunch! And I hope that you all will be very pleasantly surprised by the news I'm about to give to you.

"It is my joy to inform you that on Monday, which is four days from now, we will be traveling to Capital City, the Windy Apple City, the capital of our dear state, to take part in the preliminary round of the Albert Einstein National Knowledge Bowl!"

Hissing filled the room as many of my classmates whispered furiously to one another. Apparently, this was big news, though it meant nothing to me. I looked questioningly at Martin next to me, but he just shrugged. On my other side, Ralph produced much the same response.

"I can see," said Mrs. Finch, her eyes glittering in my direction, "that there is a bit of puzzlement among you all. I implore the older students to be patient with me, as I explain to our little freshmen the enormity of this news."

She pushed herself up on her desk, then sat down on it cross-legged, a stance I could tell meant that we were in for a long explanation.

"Of course, you all know that we alone are not the only magnet program in the country. There might even be schools with students smarter than you all, though I highly doubt that. But the fact remains that all the most brilliant school love to show off the fact that they truly are the most brilliant. And that is where the Knowledge Bowl comes in.

"The top five percent of the smartest high schools in the country are invited to take place in an annual competition that pits school against school in a brilliant battle of wits. The preliminary competition weeds out the schools of only mediocre genius, and so the preliminary round is the crucial round. The top 25 percent that do the best in the preliminary round are invited to take part in the Finals, and from the Finals, a champion is crowned.

"Every year, our MBHS A and B magnet teams qualify for the preliminaries. The A team is always eliminated, but B team, our Corvid team, is always one of the top-ranking. Last year, we came in second in the Finals, beaten only by our arch rival, The Enriched Learning Center for Gifted Children."

She sneered this last part, and the rest of the class looked very angry at the mention. The name of the school sounded very familiar, yet I couldn't quite figure out where I had heard it before...

Mrs. Finch continued. "Springfield contains the best and the brightest, and it is always a thrill when the two Springfield schools battle it out for Number One. And considering that the Center is an exclusive, and very, very expensive private school, while MBHS is a normal public school funded with government money, and not by snooty parents, I think we do quite well for ourselves."

Suddenly it clicked in my brain. I had heard of the Center because, many years ago, Bart had cheated on an aptitude test, and had been put in that school. I could remember listening to him describe the advanced computer technology, and the multitude of books in the vast library, and the hands-on experiments they did there. And I had been completely and utterly jealous of him, and the fact that he got to go to such a wonderful school, while I was trapped in an elementary school with a promotional periodic table supplied by Oscar Meyer. (The atomic weight of bolongnium? Snack-tacular!)

"Every year," said Mrs. Finch, "we work hard to beat the Center. This year, with an exceptional Captain, and three excellent Team Leaders, I believe that our chances of beating them are highly probable."

I spoke up with a question that had been nagging me. "Isn't this competition a little unfair? I mean, I don't think we freshmen should be expected to know as much as the seniors."

"You're correct, Simpson. Each grade level is given a different category, which applies across the board. Last year, all the freshmen teams competed against each other in biology. So in essence, each school is split into four or so teams. And each team earns points towards its school. The school with the highest total points wins! And we came within 100 points of beating The Center last year."

"And this year," called out Soapy, "we are going to win, no matter what! I think it's about time that we kick those Center snobs off their high-horses, and show that knowledge can't be bought, but has to be earned! We'll show them just how competent an average public school really is!"

_But we're not an average public school,_ I thought to myself. _We Corvids are treated much better than the rest of the school is. Just looking at our lunches alone is evidence of that._

But apparently, none of my classmates showed the same doubt I did. They seemed every bit as eager as Soapy to prove that 'normal public schools' were superior to private schools. And who was I to argue with their fervor, and their excitement? Seeing Soapy's look of utter determination made me realize just how important this contest was.

"It's always nice to hear the Captain give so inspiring an address to his teammates. But I would also like to remind everyone that, no matter how satisfying it would be to finally beat the Center, being second out of the entire _country_ is no mean feat. And no matter how low you may score, I for one will be proud of each and every one of you.

"But I really do think it's time to give the Center a taste of second place."

_Good grief_, I thought, _Mrs. Finch is as into this as all my classmates are. _Suddenly, something she had said came back to me with a jolt.

"Mrs. Finch, did you say that we're doing this in _four days_?" I asked incredulously. "Are we supposed to be prepared for this huge competition in _four days_?!"

She smiled. "It's a country-wide policy, only four days of study. They won't even email me the categories until tomorrow morning, so you all can't start studying ahead of time. I'll take the opportunity to mention that all other homework I assigned you is temporarily suspended, until after the contest. I want you focusing on learning you topic inside out, and upside down."

There was a halfhearted cheer at the news of no homework, but I think most of the class felt, as I did, that studying for such a serious contest was homework enough. Fortunately, as it was only Wednesday, I couldn't start studying tonight, which meant that my evening was free.

"I just wanted to tell you all the news, and I take it that many of you are indeed surprised. Thursday and Friday will be devoted completely to learning your topics, but that doesn't mean we can't spend today learning about the joys of microbiology! Take out your workbooks, and turn to page 342..."

**-O-**

"_Now, Batman, I'll show you why it's not a good idea to put kryptonite in my insulin! Haiiii-YA!"_

"_Haha, you think you have me, Superman, but you're in for quite a shock! Look behind you!"_

"_Spiderman?! Where did you come from?!"_

"_The Power Rangers gave me a call a few minutes ago. They got a tip from the X-Men that you were angry when you found out that Batman has been sleeping with your chick, Lois."_

"_He WHAT?!"_

I can tell you that Wednesday nights are not the best nights for television. It was either 'Superhero Smackdown' (which, contrary to popular belief, _did_ have its merits), or 'Trading Spouses: The Hillbilly Edition'. As you can see, I opted for the former, and figured that after months of hard work at school, I was allowed to rot my brain watching a lame movie with no plot, character development, or acting skill.

At one point, I became so engrossed trying to figure my way out of a plot hole, I forgot the dinner I had cooking on the stove. Only when it started to hiss and bubble, did I remember, and I hurried to the kitchen at once.

As I passed the window, I thought I saw something other than the bushes that were overgrown on the side of the house. But when I looked out, I could see nothing amiss.

I returned to the couch, and my C-Grade movie, but I didn't allow myself to sink back into the mindless stupor I was in a few minutes ago. After being home alone for months, I had grown a little edgier, and recently, it seemed that I was noticing every odd little sound, and every shadow produced by a passing car's headlights against a trash can.

I had also been looking for _any _sign of Tommy. I hadn't heard from him in _months_, and I was truly concerned for him. When he was little, he was so skittish and protected, and when he got older, he became irrational and hasty. Out there, alone, I sincerely hoped that he was living okay. The thought that I could just curl up on the couch, eating pasta, while he was Buddha-knows-where eating Buddha-knows-what, well, that made me feel guilty. I felt that I should be doing something, _anything_, to find my best friend.

But I couldn't, at least yet. I still had that bedamned competition on Monday, and from the sound of my classmates, if I screwed it up for them, they would flay me. And I didn't want to forsake their companionship with them, because, as corny as it sounds, I needed them, because I had no one else.

Over the sounds of Wonderwoman brawling with the Incredible Hulk, I _definitely_ heard something moving around outside, rustling the bushes. I stared out the living room window, wide open to the whole world, and felt goosebumps prickling on my arms.

_Stop being silly,_ I chastised myself. _You're letting your imagination get to you. A mad-axe man is _not_ waiting to slaughter you when you step out of the living room, you know! But you should probably close the blinds anyway – it _is_ rather dark out, and _anyone _can see inside._

I got up quickly, and scurried over to the window. With a tug on the cord, the Venetian blinds covered over the window, but I had to admit that they looked like very scanty protection against anyone, or anything, trying to get in.

I tried to return to watching my movie, but now adrenaline coursed through my body at the thought of someone trying to get into the house. And my fear multiplied as I heard footsteps walking...right...by...the...house...

_You're pathetic, you know that?_ asked my treacherous brain. _Just because you're all alone, at night, while lunatics prowl the streets looking for innocent victims, you expect that one will just barge into the house and hold a knife to your throat?_

Glancing at the clock, I decided that perhaps it was the appropriate time to go to bed. After all, I would have a long day of studying ahead, and I wanted to be well rested. Not to mention that my warm, secure bed with my cozy, protective comforter looked very inviting...

And once in bed, I allowed myself to chuckle at my folly. Sometimes it was a curse of the imaginative, to work themselves into a frenzy over nothing.

_Ding Dong_

And there it was again, my imagination making things up, trying to scare me for no—

_Ding dong ding dong ding dong_

My heart beat rapidly, as I realized that, in this case, it _wasn't_ my imagination. It was a living, breathing person, standing at my front door, alerting me to their presence. And the chime of the doorbell now had a sinister timbre that I had not heard before.

I considered just letting it ring. After all, who would be visiting me so late at night, on a school night? I couldn't think of anyone... except...

I tiptoed over to my window, trying to see out of it to the front stairs below. I was looking for the glimpse of red hair that would show me that it was Tommy ringing the doorbell. But the night was dark, and the malfunctioning streetlamp cast too weak and inconsistent a glow to discern any details about the mysterious individual.

With the possibility that I would get to see Tommy at long last, I walked cautiously downstairs towards the door. It reminded me strongly of my sleepover a few months ago, and I bolstered myself with the knowledge that that too had been scary, yet nothing bad had come of it.

The stranger chose to knock this time. And once I heard the knock, I flung the door energetically open, and embraced the stranger in a big bear hug.

"I would recognize your special knock anywhere, Bart!" I screamed, possibly waking the neighbors, but I didn't care.

"Hey, Lis," he said, tightly hugging me back. "Have you missed me?"

I suddenly stiffened, and withdrew from his hug. Then, after looking up and down the street, I yanked him inside, and slammed the door shut. "What are you doing here?" I asked incredulously. "This will be the first place the police look for you! You definitely shouldn't be here! You'll be caught for sure!"

Bart looked quizzically at me. "Where else am I supposed to go?"

I did some very fast thinking, trying to figure out a place where I could keep Bart without making him leave entirely. Even if he _was_ in danger staying here, I did _not_ want him to leave yet. Not until we had had some quality time.

And the place suddenly came to me. The perfect place for Bart to hide out. "Come with me," I told him, grabbing a coat from the coat rack and throwing it over my PJs. "I have the perfect place for you to hide out! And then we will have a good, long conversation."

I opened the door, looking around cautiously for any sign of flashing police car lights. _You're being paranoid_, my brain told me, but I figured it was better to be too cautious than not cautious enough. Once I saw that the coast was clear, I walked stealthily out of the house, and gestured to Bart to follow me.

The two of us shortly found ourselves in the Flanders' back yard. I walked over to the patio, and began counting the stone tiles, looking for the correct one. And it was no simple task in the unlit backyard, with only the waning moon for light.

"Lisa, what are we doing out here?" asked Bart impatiently.

"I'm looking for the tile that will—" And then I found it. I pulled up the tile, and stared, stumped, at the combination lock. "I don't suppose you have a light, do you?" I asked Bart.

"Sure," he said, reaching into a pocket of his ragged-looking coat. He pulled out a cigarette lighter, and held it aloft for me while I spun the dial.

There was a _click_ as I reached the last number, and then Bart whistled in surprise as an entire section of the patio lifted about an inch. I heaved the section up, and as it swung on its hinges, it revealed a dimly-lit stairway below.

"This," I said smugly, "is the secret entrance into the Flanders' second basement, which is where you'll be staying."

"Why the hell did the Flanders have a _second_ basement? And I assume they don't live here anymore, because you _know_ that I refuse to stay with them."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "The Flanders haven't been here for months." I paused, thinking again of Tommy. "And they built this basement to 'hide away from the sin and debauchery of the world, until the glorious time of the Apocalypse'."

Bart raised an eyebrow, but he followed me down the stairs. I opened the door, and entered the spacious room underneath the basement. The decorations were sparse, but it was comfortable, and well-stocked with supplies, and had plumbing and electricity, and all the essentials.

"This ain't a bad place, Lis," he said, looking around in approval. "You're _positive_ the Flanders aren't here?"

"Bart, I think I would know if the neighbors chose to move away or not."

"Well," he said, settling down on an austere couch, "it sure beats the slammer."

I sat down next to him. "Speaking of the slammer, why did you run away? I know you wrote to me, and said that you were going to run, but I didn't think you'd actually _do_ it! You'll be in SO much trouble if you're caught! Was it really worth it?"

Bart looked at me seriously. "Absolutely. I can imagine nothing worse than going to jail. They'd make mincemeat out of me. You don't understand, because you've never been there. But I've been to juvie, which is just a miniature jail; all I can say is, it's a damn good thing that I'm one of the big guys, because the young guys and little guys get pounded on all the time. And I'll admit that it's fun to be the one doing the pounding."

I studied his face. He had gone off to juvie when he was fourteen; nearly three years had passed, and the change in him was apparent. For one thing, he _looked_ a lot older than I remembered. His hair was longer, and I could see stubble from a not-quite-recent shave (a trait shared by nearly every Simpson man). His eyes were where I could see the biggest difference; at fourteen, they had been full of juvenile mischief and disobedience. Now, they were the eyes of a young man who had seen more in his short life than he wanted to.

After a moment of silence, he said, "So why are the Flanders gone? And where's Homer? And how's Milhouse doing? Geez, it's been so long since I talked to any of you."

And even though it was a school night, and even though I suffered from migraines caused by sleep-deprivation, we talked well into early Wednesday morning. A little voice in my head kept telling me, _You really should get to sleep, you know. You have a big day ahead._ But I figured that it was the small price I had to pay for the great reward of having my brother back.

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**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**August 21, 2004**

Sigh... all this writing about school reminds me that I have only a little more than a week left of summer freedom. On August 30, it's back to the drudgery and toil of school...

Grrr... for whatever reason, my header doesn't work anymore, so I had to make a new one. Damn this stupid system...

Well, some of you asked when Bart would be back. As you can see, I have not failed you. This calls for a round of Bart Plushies on me!

I can't believe some of the reviews I've gotten! Some of you are very nice, and I thank you a great deal! And some of you simply go A and B the C of D! Like those of you who give me **9** reviews... that's amazing! Big hugs! And I'm glad to hear from some of my older reviewers, too! It's nice to know that I'm not forgotten...


	12. To The Rescue!

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O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Spinning for Hours

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by Sir Mocha

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O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

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Chapter 12: To The Rescue!

"Hey, Lisa! You feeling better?" asked a concerned Lee, as soon as I walked into the classroom.

"Yeah, loads. Thanks!" I replied, dropping a huge stack of books on the table.

"Well, that's a relief! We need our fearless leader in top physical condition if we want to win this thing!" remarked Martin.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I replied a little guiltily. "I promise that today, I'll be absolutely focused on studying! I won't let any migraine distract me."

"That's good to know," said Anna, picking up one of the books and flipping through it.

Well, my little reunion with Bart had indeed left me with a raging headache the next morning. Pair that with the exhaustion after only three hours of sleep, and you can see why I was not particularly focused yesterday when we began the big study-a-thon for the Knowledge Bowl. I had managed to organize our study topics, but the information I managed to absorb was not nearly adequate for a whole day of studying.

"Well, even if you weren't feeling so well yesterday, it looks like you still managed to get a whole lot of information," remarked Ralph, who was flipping through one book.

"Yeah. I went to the library yesterday, and got this stack of books. There are books on world history, as well as ones on individual regions, too. They ought to be pretty useful; I looked through all of them."

"Well we all appreciate the hard work, Lisa," said Lee.

I felt another squirm of guilt. The truth was, getting the books had been the only thing I'd done the previous day outside of school. After spending half an hour in the library, I had gone home and crashed on the couch until dinner time, and then after eating, I went to check on Bart, wasted two hours online, and then went to bed. I had done no studying, with the excuse to myself that I still had all of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to thoroughly learn my topic.

"I know how eager we all are to begin learning, people," I said sarcastically, addressing my group, "but before we begin, I think we should just review what each of us is specifically studying, to make sure there's no confusion, and no repetitive studying. Eoh and I are studying North American History, which will be the most heavily emphasized. Eoh, you are doing…"

"Through the Civil War," he replied without missing a beat.

"Yes. And I am doing post-Civil War," I finished. "Lee, you are…"

"Asian history," he said, holding up a book with kimono on the front cover.

"Yeah. And Martin…"

"African. Though there aren't going to be many questions on that," he said.

"Be that as it may, Africa is a big place, and there is still lots of information you need to learn, especially since we haven't really cover African history in school."

"Yeah," said Anna. "South America won't have many questions either, but we haven't learned much about its history in school. Still, it's not as much as most of the rest of you have to learn."

"Yeah," I agreed, "but don't forget that you have Central America too, which, especially in the last century, had a lot of important ties to American history. There are bound to be questions on that, so you need to learn that too."

"Ok," I said, turning to Akila. "You and Ralph have European history, which is huge. Do you two have it worked out, who's going to study what?"

"Yeah," she replied. "I'm doing Eastern Europe, which included the old Soviet Union. Ralph is doing Western Europe."

I turned to Ralph. "Western European history is a huge subject. Do you need help? Martin could help you with that."

He looked at me, offended. "What, you think I can't handle it? European history is an integral part of secondary school history. We've learned European history so much, I think I could do it without studying. Not that I would do such a thing," he amended, when he saw the horror in the group's eyes. "I'll study for this thing, and I'll win it, all for you, Lisa!"

The other freshmen though he was joking, but I was a bit worried that he might actually be serious. I certainly didn't want to go back to dating Ralph Wiggum, whether he was smarter or not. I had my eyes on other guys…

I glanced quickly across the room, to the bookshelves by the fireplace. The sophomores were studying works of literature throughout the ages, from Homer through Tolkien. I didn't know which subject was harder, World History or Literature.

Theo was bent over a large volume of Shakespeare's plays, absentmindedly chewing on a pencil in adorable concentration. My mind began to wander, as I imagined myself as Juliet, and Theo as Romeo. I could almost see myself, sitting on my balcony while Theo expressed his deep and profound love. As he compared my eyes to the stars…

I physically shook myself, trying to get such lurid, sentimental, and very much clichéd thoughts from my head. As much as I wanted to fantasize, I was conscious of the fact that I had already wasted an entire day, and was behind in my studying. After the competition, I would allow myself to daydream…

"Ok," I said, "since you all know your individual categories, I guess it's time to get to work." I sat down, and pulled a thick and dusty volume to me. _Ok, brain_, I thought, _it's time for us to get learning. You need to absorb as much info as you can!_

I sat there for a good two hours, trying to soak up the info into the sponge of my brain. After working my way through Reconstruction, I was more than thankful for the 10 minute break from studying. At this time, I would usually be in gym (one of my required classes, and one that I attended with non-Corvid students). Mrs. Finch had convinced my gym teacher, a surly, middle aged, unsympathetic Neanderthal of a woman, that it was imperative I miss class. I have to say, I much preferred studying over having volleyballs and soccer balls flying at me at high velocity.

I got up and stretched, then walked over to Anna, who was also working out the kinks in her spine. I asked, teasingly, "How are the thrills of Central America?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think that if I have to read any more about the Cuban Missile Crisis, I'm going to go crazy."

"I know how you feel," I replied. "I can't focus. I don't know how much of the material I'm actually _learning_ learning. It's in my brain for a while, and then gets pushed out again when I learn new stuff."

She frowned at me. "That's not good, Lisa. You really need to be learning this stuff. It's important; American history is the hardest subject, and you _really_ need to know you stuff well if we want to win."

I was a bit taken aback at the admonishment. Anna was usually quite lax about schoolwork, and normally she would not have cared how much of the material I was actually absorbing. It seemed that the madness had gotten to her, too. Scary.

"Don't worry," I responded. "I'll learn the stuff. I won't let the team down. I'll be a good captain."

"That's all we ask for," she said cheerfully, then left to talk to Lee.

Martin, sitting across the table, rolled his eyes at her, and then said to me, "What was _her_ problem? It's just a dumb contest. There's no need for her to get so serious."

I just shrugged my shoulders, and said, "Evidently, we're the only two who don't really care about this competition. I'll try my hardest, for their sakes, but I really don't like the way they've _all _gotten so serious about the whole thing."

"Amen to that," he laughed. Then Mrs. Finch announced that it was time to get back to work, so I sullenly made my way back to my seat, picked up a text book, and began to learn about the thrills of the early 1900s.

****

-O-

"…and you should have seen the cops! They came by yesterday night with a warrant to search the house, on the premises that I was stashing 'illegal firearms' in the basement! I'm pretty sure they were looking for you, Bart, but since I knew you were safe, I let them in. I wasn't worried at all: those bumbling cops never find what they're looking for, even if it's right under their noses! You should have seen them: they went through every room, but they couldn't even manage to find Homer's library of porn magazines, or the boxes and boxes of drug paraphernalia that he collected back in the 70s. Then Chief Wiggum got his head stuck in the banister, and had to be buttered and greased before he got free. They left a fruit basket as a 'We're Sorry' present."

"Ah," he replied, "so that's why you're letting me back in the house again."

"C'mon," I retorted, "it's not _that_ bad living in the Flanders' basement!"

"I beg to differ, dear Lisa. The furniture may be comfortable, the décor may be fancy, and the food may be good, but the entire house reeks of the Flanders. They have a particular pious odor that hangs about them, and, for a damned soul like me, it drives me crazy."

"Oh, Bart," I lamented. "I feel for you! Knowing what you must suffer through leaves me feeling bitter pangs of sorrow!"

He raised one eyebrow, and I said, dryly, "It's sarcasm."

"Whatever," he replied. "Do you know what's on TV tonight?"

"Well, there's that new reality TV show about these people who have to develop romantic relationships with each other. At the end of each episode, all the singles are thrown in the ocean with boulders tied to their feet. In addition, the contestants have been robbed of their senses of sight, hearing, and touch, and what they don't know is that the island they're living on is populated by malnourished cannibals."

"That's boring. There have been too many shows like that already. And anyway," he added, "don't you have some studying to do?"

"Noooo!" I wailed. "I spent _hours_ studying today! I _refuse_ to do any more!"

Just then, the telephone rang. As I went to answer it, I heard theme song of 'Eat Me Up' playing. Humming along, I picked up the phone, and said, "Hello?"

"Lisa?"

"Yes, this is Lisa. Who is this?" I asked. I couldn't recognise the weak-sounding voice at the other end of the line.

"This is Tommy…please, Lisa, I…I n-need your help."

My heart skipped a beat. This was Tommy? Tommy, who was usually so loud and confident? Tommy never stuttered, and he _never_ asked for help. Something was seriously wrong.

"Tommy?! What happened?" I asked, my stomach fluttering.

"I'm…I'm up in S-Scarletville…"

"_Scarletville_?" I asked. "Tommy, that's three hundred miles away! What are you doing in Scarletville, of all places?" Scarletville was a large city two states away, infamous for its high crime rate and high levels of violence.

"I…I had a job…but p-please, Lisa, I n-need your help!"

My throat was strangely choked, and I could barely get the words out. "What happened, Tommy? Are you hurt? Are you in danger?"

"Lisa, j-just… please, help me."

"Tommy!" I said desperately. "You are hundreds of miles away! Can't you just call the police?"

"NO!" he said adamantly. "If I call them, they'll figure out who I am, and they'll send me back to Ned! And when they do that, he'll KILL me! I'm his 'devil child'! I CAN'T go back!"

"It's BETTER than being DEAD!" I yelled back, without thinking. The minute it was out, I wish I hadn't said it. It was like some ominous prediction, and I refused to believe that Tommy was in mortal danger.

"Lisa, you're the only one I trust. You're the only one I believe in. You're the only one who can help me."

He was so goddammed _manipulative_! After hearing that, how could I do anything else _but_ help him? And I told him as much. He gave a feeble chuckle, but it turned to a hacking cough. He sounded awful, and unless I was very much mistaken, he was in serious, _serious_ trouble.

With tears welling in my eyes, I made a very abrupt decision. "Shit, Tommy, I'll be down there as fast as I can. Just try to stay out of trouble until then, _please_. Where will I be able to find you?"

He took a deep, wheezing breath, and said, "Th-there's a pub called _The Brass Monkey_. I'm at a convenience store next to it, and after I'm done with this call, I-I'll probably go hide behind the d-dumpster next to this store."

"A _dumpster_?" I shrieked. "Tommy, where have you been living?!"

"Please, Lisa, just get here! I'll explain everything when I see you."

"You bastard, you're the only one I'd do this for."

"I know," he said hoarsely. "And I love you for it."

Tears began to roll down my cheeks. "Dammit, just be careful. I want to see you in one piece!"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine until then."

"You better be, or else," I said, and hung up.

"What the HELL was that all about?" asked Bart. He had turned the TV off, and was looking at me, concerned.

I sniffed. "Tommy is in really bad trouble, and I promised that I would help him." I wiped my eyes, then said, "but Bart, he's in _Scarletville_! How am I supposed to get there, at 9 o'clock at night?!" I started to cry in earnest, even though I knew that I looked weak and silly in front of Bart.

"It'll be ok, Lis," he said, patting my back. "I'll help you get to Scarletville."

"Bart, you're hiding from the police, remember? You can't help me! And even if that wasn't a problem, we have no car, and you have no driver's license."

"Lisa, Lisa, Lisa," he said, shaking his head. "You don't spend three years in juvie without learning how to hot-wire a car. Marge's is still in the garage, right? We can take that. Just give me a second, and I'll have that baby running."

While he was out in the garage, I managed to regain composure. I got a road map, a first-aid kit (though I wondered how useful that would be), some money, and a blanket and some of Bart's clothes, in case Tommy needed them. I was not going to go all the way to Scarletville without being adequately prepared for the worst.

I heard the engine roar to life, and I smiled. Of course Bart would know how to hot-wire a car. Some things hadn't changed over the years. And it truly touched me, that he was willing to avoid getting re-arrested to help me. I walked out into the garage with the supplies, and put them in the car. But before I got in the car, I hugged Bart tightly.

"What's that for?" he asked suspiciously.

"For being such a good brother!" I replied, and then burst into tears again.

"Ah, I see," he said uncomfortably. He was _not_ used to having girls, even his sister, clinging to him and sobbing. He pried me off him, and led me to the passenger side of the car. I got in, and grabbed some tissues to try and stem this flow of unusually expressive emotion.

In five minutes, we were driving down the street (at the speed limit, I might add. There was no sense in getting caught for being careless). I stared broodingly out the window, wishing with all my heart that my best friend was safe, and unharmed.

****

-O-

I looked over at the luminous clock, which read **12:25**, and I yawned. "Wow, did I fall asleep? It was just 9:30…"

"Are you kidding," asked Bart. "You've been out like a light since we left Springfield. You didn't go to bed too late last night, did you?"

"Would you consider 12 o'clock too late?" I asked sheepishly.

He looked at me inquisitively. "Don't you get migraines if you stay up too late?"

"I took medicine before I went to bed, and took some more this morning. And the two liters of Buzz Cola before school may have helped, too," I explained. "But I couldn't make myself go to bed, because I was reading this really interesting story online, and—"

"Ok, ok, I really don't care how late you stayed up. I'm not your dad," he said.

"Hah," I laughed bitterly. "Homer doesn't care. He calls once a week, but the rest of the time, I'm all alone in the house, just sitting in front of a computer screen, watching my lonely life go by.".

Bart rolled his eyes. "I've forgotten how ridiculously angsty teenage girls can be."

"Hmph," I replied. After a few silent minutes, I asked, "how much farther?"

"Well," he said, looking at the road signs, "we're about halfway there. So I'd say another three hours."

"Good," I said. "The sooner we get there, the better."

"Lisa, you have to explain to me. What's up with Todd Flanders? When I left, he was still a nerdy wuss who would spy on you from his bedroom window. I find it very hard to believe that you're friends with some_thing_ like that."

I smiled, remembering. "Not long after you left, he went kinda crazy. Long suppressed feeling were screwing him up, and finally they got to be too much. He rebelled against everything he had once been, and changed completely. And you know I had never had many friends, and once they became interested in clothes and makeup, the friends I had were not friends anymore. Tommy had never had friends either, because he _was_ a nerdy wuss, and I guess the two of us just sort of gravitated towards each other. And we were the best of friends for three years."

"Just friends?" asked Bart skeptically, "or was there something _else_ going on?"

A vivid blush spread across my face. "Of _course_ just friends! We were _not_ romantically involved, whether you choose to believe it or not!"

"I believe it," said Bart. "I know you don't like him, because I know you like someone at school."

"H-how did you know?" I sputtered, my blush deepening.

"Every time you talk about school, and especially when you talk about your class, you get this faraway, dreamy look in your eyes," he said smugly. "I've seen that look from you before, like when you were going out with Nelson, or that time you had that substitute teacher, or that time we went to the dude ranch, and you fell for that Luke guy."

"That is impossibly perceptive for you, Bart! Since when did you become so observant? And all those things happened so long ago…how were you able to remember so well?"

He gave me a sidelong glance. "I _was_ imprisoned for three years. Believe it or not, I have changed in a lot of ways, and, I'll admit, some of them are for the better. Though," he added, "I remembered all those things so I could tease you about them later on."

I just stuck out my tongue.

****

-O-

"Well, that clerk gave me directions to the pub," said Bart, coming out of the all-night convenience store. "But he suggested that it was too late for me to be out, and said that I should 'toddle home to mama—'"

"You can gripe about threats to your maturity later," I grunted. "We have to find Tommy now."

"The pub is about fifteen minutes away," said Bart, starting up the car. "And the sooner we get Flanders, the better. This is a rough city at any time of day, and especially bad at night. The clerk was wearing a bullet-proof vest."

"I agree," I said. "Let's go."

I spent fifteen minutes staring out the window, looking amidst the many neon signs for _The Brass Monkey_. When I saw it, I shrieked, "There it is! Bart, there it is!"

"I see it," he winced. "I'm not blind, or hard of hearing,"

"Sorry," I said, only half-concentrating on the apology. I was peering into the alley, trying to see Tommy. All I could see was the dumpster he said he would be taking refuge behind.

As soon as the car stopped, I threw the door open, and sprinted towards the dumpster. "Tommy?" I yelled, listening for an answer.

"Keep it down, Lisa," replied a sickly-sounding voice from the two-foot gap between it and the wall, "or else you'll attract unwanted attention."

"Tommy!" I yelled, only more quietly. "Come out, I'm here with Bart to bring you home."

"Thank Buddha," he said weakly. I could hear rustling, and then he emerged, crawling.

If he hadn't already warned me not to, I would have shrieked. Dried blood encrusted his bruised and cut face. His lip was split, and one eye was swollen completely shut. Aside from these obvious injuries, I noticed other things about him, like how gaunt his face was, and how his curly brown hair was dirty and bedraggled. He looked like he had been through hell and back.

"Oh, holy Buddha, what happened to you?" I breathed.

He replied softly, "I got m-mugged…I was looking for a place to sleep, and f-found an abandoned house, except I…I didn't know it b-belonged to those guys…"

"Oh, Tommy," I sobbed. I bent down, and wrapped him in a fierce hug, but pulled back quickly when he gasped. "What is it?" I asked with trepidation.

"It's my-my ribs, I think they're broken…" he winced.

I bit my lip, then said, "I'll get Bart—"

"No need," Bart said, walking up behind me. "I'm here, and we can carry him to the car." He studied Tommy for a moment, then said to him, "You look like shit."

"Tell me about it," said Tommy through gritted teeth.

As carefully as we could, Bart and I picked up Tommy, carried him to the car, and put him gently into the back seat. Despite the care we took, he was out cold as we laid him down, and spread the blanket over his shivering body.

"Bart, we _need_ to get him to the hospital ASAP," I ordered.

"I agree, Lisa," he said, "but do you _really_ want to bring him to a _Scarletville_ hospital?"

"No, not really," I said, thinking of the skanky hospitals in the dingy city. "But he is in _dire_ need of medical help."

"Hey, hey, don't get all melodramatic on me!" protested Bart. "I _know_ he needs help, but not half-assed help! There was a fairly big city about an hour away, and the hospital looked clean and orderly, at least on the outside. He's been out all night, and I think he'll last another hour, ok?"

"But Bart—" I protested.

"If you absolutely _insist_ on taking him to a _dilapidated_ hospital run by people completing their _community service_ sentences, then I will take you there. _I_ strongly recommend that we go to the hospital that will give him the medical care he needs."

Bart had had me convinced at 'dilapidated'. "I know, I know, you're right," I acceded.

"Well then, instead of standing around, talking, let's get a move on!" he said.

.

****

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

.

****

October 6, 2004

Well, it did take quite some time, but I gave you all a longish chapter, with an exciting new plot twist. But don't think that this event will not connect to everything else that's been going on. In my stories, everything (or nearly everything) has relevance to the plot.

Haha, for my birthday today, one of my friends gave me a singing and dancing Homer, and the other gave me a pillow case with a picture of a naked Homer on it. O.o Everyone else was disgusted/horrified by it; I laughed at it. Now what does that say about me…?

Thanks muchly to everyone who reviewed! We're up to about 145 now! Incredible!


	13. Returning Home

November 27, 2004

Well, I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving! I hope you all gorged on turkey, and mashed potatoes (my personal favorite), and cranberry sauce, and stuffing, etc. From Thanksgiving to Christmas is the _best _time of the year! It's such a _nice_ time… geez, I'm practically crying from happiness.

It's been a month and a half since my last update. I'm sorry, but school has been murder, and it takes away all my desire to do anything the least mentally challenging. Writing fanfic with convoluted plots? Waaaay too difficult. I just sit around, watch TV, and drool now. It's so sad.

Well, I tried to make up for it with a chapter that's much longer than ususal. I've been working on this for a month and a half, adding bits and pieces here and there. That's why it has so many different tones: humor, angst, sap…

By the way, at some point I'll be redoing the first chapter. It makes me cringe because it's so poorly written. It also has some details that I've decided against adding in the story, and I want to redo it to make it more interesting. If _I_ read that first chapter, _I _wouldn't want to continue reading the story.

Thanks for the wonderful reviews everyone! And I have to address one review I got, inquiring to whether or not I'm still writing this fic. I'll say it now: **I will never just abandon this fic.** If I _do_ decide to stop writing it (which I don't anticipate doing), I will post one last chapter with a summary of the rest of the plot, so everyone won't be left hanging. I already know what I want to write; the hard part is just getting it all down.

And I have to address one review I got, inquiring to whether or not I'm still writing this fic. I'll say it now: If I decide to stop writing it (which I don't anticipate doing), I will post one last chapter with a summary of the rest of the plot, so everyone won't be left hanging. I already know what I want to write; the hard part is just getting it all down. 

So without further ado…

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Spinning for Hours

-O-

by Sir Mocha

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

****

Chapter 13: Returning Home

I was sitting in the hospital waiting area, stretched out over three chairs, reading an old copy of _Weird_ magazine. Bart was lying on a coffee table beside me. The few other people in the room were giving us dirty looks, because we probably shouldn't have been sitting as we were, but seeing as we had a long wait ahead of us, I wanted to be comfortable. And if those other waiters didn't like it, well, there was nothing they could do about it.

"Lis," said Bart, "it's four in the morning. I really think you should try to get some sleep."

"Sorry, Bart, but I can't do that. I'm too wired. And anyway, do you know how hard it is to sleep on these damn chairs? I don't think they were made to support the human skeletal system."

"You want to try my nest?" he asked, indicating a mass of old magazines, shaped to make a passably comfortable bed.

"Uh…no thanks," I declined, my eyes on a nurse who was shuffling towards us. She eyed the coffee table nest, which Bart quickly vacated.

"Sir, you'll need to fill this out," she said, handing Bart a clipboard with a medical form for information about Tommy. "And I'll need to get you to give me a phone number where I can contact his father or mother."

Bart gave me a sidelong glance, and then said, "What are you talking about? I _am_ his father!"

I inwardly groaned. Bart may have been older than Tommy and me, and he may have possessed the Simpsons Wonder Stubble, but he did _not_ look old enough to be Tommy's father.

Apparently the nurse agreed with me. "Who are you trying to fool, kid? I may have detached retinas, but even I can see that you're just a kid, like the other one."

Bart looked aghast. "I am outraged by this insolent disregard for my integrity! I'm telling you, I am his father!"

"Do you have any proof of your identity, sir?" asked the nurse skeptically.

"Why, certainly! I'm a responsible citizen; I never go anywhere without my driver's license," he responded confidently. He pulled from a pants pocket an ID that I didn't know he had.

She snatched it, and looked at it suspiciously. After studying for a moment, she said, "Bort Seinfeld, age _thirty five_?"

I felt like slapping him.

"Yes, madam, you are talking to the one and only Bort Seinfeld! Certainly, that is who I am. No question of that!" I noted wryly that after several years behind bars, Bart seemed to have lost his touch when trying to deceive people.

"I thought," she asked dubiously, "you told us his name was Flanders."

Bart grabbed at his chest, and gasped dramatically, "Do _NOT _bring up my tempestuous relationship with Maude Flanders!"

"He still bears the mental _and_ physical scars of that marriage!" I chimed in.

"After I posted her bail," Bart continued, "she stayed around long enough to deliver our child, and then fled! And ever since then, I have been a kind and devoted, and albeit, overprotective father. I want the absolute best for my son, and frankly, I am appalled at the callous attitude your staff have towards us! I have half a mind to pull young…young…"

"Theodore," I quickly supplied.

"Ah yes, young _Theodore_, from this hospital, and bring him to another one that is better educated in the art of human compassion!"

"Whatever, kid," said the sarcastic old woman. "Just fill out the damn info, and don't cause any trouble." She turned, as if to leave, then added, "I have a son named Bort."

"Oh, you do, do you?" asked Bart, feigning curiosity.

"Yeah. He lives at home, smoking pot and watching dated sitcom reruns." With that, she shuffled quickly away, to return to the tedium of the front desk at four in the morning.

The minute she was out of hearing, I turned to stare up at Bart. "What were you doing?!"

"What do you _think_ I was doing? I was convincing her that I was Flanders' dad."

"That is the worst job I have ever seen! You're lucky she's so apathetic towards her job, or who knows what might have happened!"

"Whatever. The point is, we got off ok. Now help me fill this sheet out."

I filled out half of it, until I got to the part that asked for medical insurance. "Bart, what do I put here?" I asked, a bit concerned.

He looked at the clip board, then said, "Eh, don't bother putting anything."

"But they need his insurance in order to pay his hospital bill! If we don't know it, we'll have to pay out of pocket, and we don't have that kind of money!"

"Don't worry about it, Lis," he replied in his 'sly' voice. "Besides, I'm sure old man Flanders didn't 'believe' in insurance anyway. He'd probably pray at a time like this."

"Perhaps," I said. What was Bart implying? We had to pay for it somehow. If he was suggesting that we run for it……

I guess he saw the skepticism on my face. "Trust me," he reassured. "I can pay. I have a bit of spare cash that should cover it."

"_Spare cash_?" I asked incredulously. "Bart, we're talking about a trip to the emergency room for immediate attention to major injuries. Broken ribs! Split lips! You think you can cover that with _spare cash_—"

Bart interrupted me. "Look, I had quite a nest egg hidden in my room, from before I went away. And I've been doing business since I got back… and before you ask, no, I will not tell you what my business involves. Just know that I'm making a ton of money." As if to prove this point, he glanced around conspiratorially, pulled out his wallet, and opened it up to show me its contents.

I stared, dumbfounded, at the mass of crumpled hundreds that lay inside. There must have been two dozen, if not more. I stared up at Bart, seeing him in a whole new light. My brother was rich… rich from shady dealings, no doubt. But who was I to interrogate him, when he had offered to pay the exorbitant hospital bill? So I merely said, "Wow."

He had a smug look on his face. Then, he asked, "Do you think the vending machines take hundreds?"

"Ha ha. Very funny. Why don't you go find out?"

"Well, I think that's a good idea," he replied, and walked off, towards the vending machines a few hundred feet away.

I finished filling out as much of the clipboard as I knew. I lied about the address, and telephone number… there would have been a day when lying on a form would have bothered me. Strange, but I had no qualms anymore…

I got up to return the clipboard to the sour nurse, and returned to my chairs. Using some old magazines as a pillow, I proceeded to lie down, and close my eyes, finally deciding that maybe it would be in my best interest to get some sleep.

I wasn't out for very long; the sound of crinkling wrappers woke me from my repose. I opened my eyes, and before me lay a huge mound of junk food. I sat up, and asked, "What's all this?"

"Well," said Bart, holding a bag of Chippos, "the machine would only give me five dollars change, so –"

"So you bought ninety-five snacks," I said, smiling.

"Exactly. Help yourself," he offered, stuffing his mouth.

I selected a bag of Soy Crunchies, and tucked in with vigor.

-O-

"How much longer is it going to be?" I asked at the reception desk.

"For the tenth time, the doctors don't know yet!" said the receptionist. "Why don't you just run along home, and we'll call you when your friend is ready to go home? I think that would be best for all of us."

I sneered, and stomped away, muttering about rude receptionists and their lack of respect for those younger than they. Bart watched me from a chair in the corner of the room; come dawn, they had made him disassemble his nest.

"They _still_ don't know how long it's going to take!" I said in consternation. "Why don't they know?! They're doctors! Don't they have any idea how long it's going to take to cure a patient? They don't even need to fix him totally! Just enough to get him home safely." I paused a minute. "I think I'm going to go tell them that. Wait here." Hah, like he had anywhere else to go.

I decided to avoid the reception desk; the receptionist was looking murderously at me, and I didn't like the close proximity of her hand to that decorative desk cactus. Instead, I decided to find where they were keeping Tommy, and ask them directly how long it would take.

However, I hadn't realized the size of the hospital. I had had presence of mind to remember where Bart was sitting, but after a half-hour of walking the halls, I had no clue how to get back.

So it was quite fortunate that I managed to stumble across the ICU. I flagged down the first white-coated person I saw, and asked, "Do you know where I can find Theodore Flanders?"

The doctor looked at me like I was some kind of _kid_. "Are you related to Theodore?"

"Of _course_ I am!" I replied. "I'm his half sister…his half sister Lindsay."

"Mmm hmm," said the doctor, not completely convinced. "Well Lindsay, visiting hours are from nine to five, so you're a few hours too early. But even if you weren't, I couldn't let you see Theodore. He's scheduled to go into reconstructive surgery in about half an hour."

"Reconstructive surgery?" I whispered. That sounded bad. That sounded really bad.

"Well, he was severely injured, worse than we had originally believed." He saw the look on my face, and hastened to add, "Oh, he'll be perfectly fine, as long as we tend to him as soon as we can. There's almost no chance that there will be any serious lasting consequences. After surgery, and rest, he'll be fine."

"Well, thank you," I said. "You don't know how long all of this is going to take, do you?"

"Well, the surgery should be fairly quick, but Theodore will need to rest for a while after that. The other doctors will probably want to keep him overnight, just to make sure he's recovering correctly."

I groaned out loud. _Overnight!? I don't want to wait around all night! I'm already bored out of my mind._ "Well, thank you. You will tell us when we can see him, right?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

"Ok. And, um, this is kind of off topic, but you wouldn't happen to have any aspirin, would you? I have a really bad migraine." Well, you would have one too if you had had only intermittent sleep for the past 24 hours.

"Follow me. I think we can get you something."

-O-

Well, whatever magical painkiller that doctor gave me put me out like a light. I remember being led back to the waiting room, asleep on my feet. And then I don't remember anything for the next ten hours or so. I _do_ remember waking up, sometime mid-afternoon, my stomach growling ferociously.

"Well, someone's up," remarked Bart, chewing on a Fudge Toaster Pie.

"You keep eating all that, and you're going to need your stomach pumped," I said dryly. Then, I said, "Mmmm, so hungry….."

"You wanna go out and get something to eat?" asked Bart. "I bought a book from the hospital gift shop, and I've been _reading_ all day. I can't stand it; if I don't stop, I might actually _learn_ something."

I laughed. "Going out to eat sounds like an excellent idea. Thought I don't understand how you have room for _real_ food, after eating all that junk."

"Lis, after living for years on prison rations, my stomach could _not_ get enough now," he said, getting to his feet. "Now what do you say to dinner at _Artie's_? I saw one on the way into town." _Artie's_, opened by our bizarre family acquaintance Artie Ziff, was a causal sit down place where you could order just about anything you could imagine. And I had an intense craving for a veggie and cheese omelet…

"I'd say that _Artie's_ sounds pretty good," I told Bart, and we headed for the car.

-O-

For the second night in a row, I sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for Tommy. Only tonight, I was in considerably better spirits. I knew that Tommy was going to be fine, and I knew that we were going to be going home the next morning.

I had read _all_ the magazines on the coffee tables, so Bart had so kindly bought me a paperback from the gift shop. I was curled up on a chair, engrossed in _Time-Share Condo of No Return_. It was a crappy book, but it was interesting enough that I didn't notice the grumpy old nurse until she was "ahem"ing for my attention.

I looked up at her inquisitively. "What, are there _more_ forms for me to fill out?" My hand cramped at the mere thought of the miles of forms I had already completed.

"Ha ha," she said humorlessly. "If you would tame your sarcasm long enough to let me talk, I could tell you that the doctors said you can visit your pal."

I jumped out of my chair, book flying off somewhere. I gave the nurse a spontaneous hug, as if to thank her for delivering her encouraging message. (I probably gave her a heart attack, too; we were not on the friendliest of terms.) Then I flew off down the corridor, leaving Bart back in the waiting room looking a bit dazed. But I didn't care; Tommy was awake, and I could _finally_ talk to him!

I bet I made record time to his room, the way I tore down the hall like that. I remember doctors and nurses jumping out of the way as I sped past, but that didn't phase me. Not one bit.

I had enough presence of mind to, when I finally got to his room, open the door gently. (After all, who knew what stage of recovery he was in? I didn't want to hurt what the doctors had spent so much time fixing.) I walked in cautiously, and said, "Tommy?" in a quiet voice.

He looked up at me from a mass of tangled wires and tubes that littered his bed. "Hey, Lisa," he said in an equally quiet voice, punctuated by the electronic beeping of the vital-stats monitor.

"Tommy!" I said emotionally, tears filling in my eyes. I walked over to him, and lowered myself into a chair at his bedside. "You sound so hoarse! You feel ok?"

"Well," he said, raspy, "If _you_ had tubes down your throat all day, I think you'd be a bit hoarse too. And yeah, I'll admit that I've felt better, but compared to last night…" he trailed off.

I sniffed. "Well, you're ok now, and we're going home tomorrow morning! Tomorrow night, you get to sleep in your own bed again."

"That'll be nice," he replied. "Going home again." He sighed.

We both burst out laughing. "That was so cheesy!" he said.

"I _know_!" I responded. "Just dripping with sap." Our laughter died down. "But seriously," I added, "you _will_ be going home for the first time in months."

"Mmm, yeah. After living in that commune, and then on the streets…" he trailed off for a second, then said abruptly, "I'll be glad to be back in Springfield."

"Ding dong!" said a voice from the door. Both Tommy and I looked over to see Bart leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sorry to interrupt the two lovebirds, but the doctor told me that you need to leave, Lis."

I scowled. "We aren't _lovebirds_, dear brother. We are blood siblings." I held up my arm to show him the faint scar on my palm. "_That_ has been an established fact since summertime."

"Well, tha_t_ was a stupid thing to do. What if he had AIDS, or something?"

"Hah," laughed Tommy. "My…my mom… and Ned were about as prude as two people could get. And besides, I know for a fact that I'm clean. I had to be tested before I moved into the commune; they wouldn't take anyone who was 'marked by the sin of the Devil'."

"Well, I hate to tear you away from your 'blood brother', Lis, but he really has to get sleep if you want to bring him home tomorrow morning."

"Ok, ok," I conceded. I got up, and carefully hugged Tommy through his mass of wires and tubes. "I'll see you tomorrow morning," I said to him.

"Goodnight, Lis," he said, and I wished him goodnight as I walked through the door, turning the light off.

-O-

I tore my eyes away from the last riveting pages of _Time-Share Condo of No Return_ to watch as Bart yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. He wiped sleep out of his eyes, and looked around, dazed, for a few seconds, before focusing on me. "What time is it?" he asked hoarsely.

I consulted my watch. "Quarter to seven."

He looked me over. "Did you sleep _at all_ last night?"

"Well, I dozed off for about twenty minutes when I got to a boring part of my book. Otherwise, no."

"You haven't slept since yesterday afternoon! And that was only a few hours. You're going to be _dead_ today!"

"I'll sleep in the car."

"I wish you would. I know that you're going to be gabbing away to that Flanders kid the entire ride home. And then you're going to go home and crash. And unless you have a worse memory than I do, you will have remembered that you have a ton of studying to do tonight for that nerd competition you have tomorrow."

I flinched. I'd been trying to forget the Knowledge Bowl, but there had been a guilt gnawing away at me all night. I knew that I had done _no_ studying, and there were still pages and pages of information to memorize. And all those pages were at home, six hours away if the traffic was good.

"Look," I said, trying to convince myself more than my brother, "there's _nothing_ I can do about that now. When I get home, I'll have a killer amount of studying to do. I can pull an all-nighter, or _something_. But there's nothing I can do now, so I won't let it bother me."

He looked at me skeptically. "If you say so," he said.

"I _do_," I said adamantly. "Now let's go get Tommy, and get home."

But it was a bit more complicated than that. They refused to let us take Tommy until he woke up naturally, and the lazy jerk (term of endearment, of course) decided to sleep till nine. And then _after_ that, there were tests that had to be run, and forms of release that had to be filled out.

One thing that stuck in my mind as being quite peculiar was when it came time for payment. ICU, and a hospital room for two nights, and round the clock monitoring, did not come cheaply. And Bart, once again, pulled out his wallet which contained all those hundreds. This time, I tried to seriously figure out how he got so much money. Where had his 'nest egg' come from? I didn't want Bart in a business that was dangerous, or illegal. And as soon as we got back to Springfield, I was going to figure out what he was doing that made him so rich.

The crusty nurse looked cock-eyed at us, but took the wadded bills and muttered a "Thank you, _sir_." I looked at her nametag, and then said mock-tearfully, "Good bye Dolores! I'll never forget you, and the kindness and generosity you showed me, my brother, and my…um, my half brother. I don't know how I'll be able to go on, knowing that you're so far away!"

"I think you'll manage," she sneered, as I walked away.

We finally left the hospital at 10:30 am, Bart and me in the front, and Tommy stretched out in the back. And truthfully, Tommy and I _did_ talk nonstop, at least until he fell asleep, near Sheldon City, about 200 miles from home.

"Bart, this traffic _sucks_," I groaned.

"Mmm," he agreed, looking out dolefully at the cars inching along the highway.

"At this rate—" I yawned loudly, "— at this rate, it'll take all day to get home!"

"You're tired," he said, glancing at me. "Why don't you sleep?"

"Be serious," I said yawning again. "I'm not tir-tir-ti…" But it took too much energy to finish the thought. I closed my eyes, _only for a second_, or so I intended. But I guess it was longer than a second, because when I woke, Bart and Tommy were having an emphatic discussion on the fine points of juvenile delinquency.

I looked reproachfully at Bart. "Being a criminal was the thing that got you into juvie in the first place!"

"And knowing how to sneak out of a juvenile correction facility was the thing that got me out!" he retorted.

"Touché!" inserted Tommy.

I stuck out my tongue at both of them. "Well, you can talk about being ruffians, but I will go back to sleep." I turned away from them, towards the window, and tried to sleep.

Only it was a bit harder, this time, to go back to napping. And when I _finally_ got to sleep, it was not a peaceful sleep. I had quite a disturbing dream.

I was at school, and I was taking the preliminary test for the Knowledge Bowl. Then, from behind, a rope wound around my neck. I was trying to tear it off, but it kept winding around my neck, tighter and tighter, while everyone kept working, oblivious. I wanted to scream, "Help Me!" but I couldn't talk, I couldn't breathe.

Then the rope was hoisted up, and attached to a gallows. I was dizzy, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. I knew I had to get down, because if I didn't take the test, I'd be letting down all my teammates, all my classmates and friends.

Before me, a dark cloaked figure appeared. "You want to be released?" it asked in a sinister, chilling voice. "I can release you, and I can save you, but you must accept the consequences."

I couldn't nod, and I couldn't talk, but it seemed to know my answer. The rope unwound from around my neck, and I fell to the floor, gasping for breath. My rasping attracted the attention of the class, and they formed a ring around the gallows and me.

"You made a deal with the Devil!" accused Theo. "You must pay for your crimes!"

"I only did it," I said weakly, "to help all of you! So I could take that test, and not let you all down!"

"Satanist!" yelled Anna. "You must pay for your crimes!"

"No!" I yelled weakly, but to no avail. They bound me tightly to the gallows, and piled kindling around my feet. Then my teacher walked up, carrying a flaming torch…

"**NO**!" I yelled, scaring Bart and Tommy half to death. After regaining composure, Bart asked, "What the hell was that?"

The details of the dream were slipping from my mind as quickly as I tried to recall them. "I don't know!" I said, shaking slightly. "It was a bad dream, and awful dream… but I can't remember what happened! But it was bad, and scary as hell." I unconsciously put my hand to my throat, and rubbed it.

"Well, like they say, Lis," said Tommy, "dreams are a window to the inner workings of your mind. I guess we know now that your mind is bad, and scary as hell…"

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically. "If you'd had that dream, you'd be peeing in your pants right now. Believe me, it was _bad_."

"Well it's all over now," said Bart reassuringly. "And now that you're awake, you can give your opinion on which classic is better: flaming dog doo, or sugar in the gas tank……"

-O-

Traffic hadn't been bad; it had been _horrible_. We got to Springfield at seven o'clock that night. In my mind, I was counting the hours until I had to go to school the next day. _Well, if I stay up all night, I'll have 11 hours… but I need _some_ sleep, or I'll be dead tomorrow, and I'll have a huge migraine to boot… but if I take lots of ibuprofen, I can probably get away with six hours of sleep… but that only gives me five hours to work…_

"Hey, Lis," said Bart, interrupting my thoughts, "I think I'm gonna crash at our house tonight."

"Bart, you can't!" I said severely. "You have to stay away from the house! The police may be dumb, but they aren't _complete_ idiots! They'll be watching the house!"

"Yeah, but _someone_ has to be there to make sure you don't fall asleep," replied Bart poignantly. "_Someone_ has to make sure you get your stuff done."

"Bart, have I _ever_ neglected schoolwork?" I asked.

"Hmm… good point. Well, if you're _sure_ you don't need me there…"

"I'll be fine," I replied confidently. "Why don't you stay with Tommy, and make sure he's ok. I'm still worried about you, Tommy. You suffered some serious injuries."

"The doctors are miracle workers, Spike. I feel fine." I smiled upon hearing my old nickname, given to me because of my once-spiky hair. "And speaking of that," he added, "your hair looks awesome! When I left, it was only a tiny bit blue."

I looked in the mirror at my hair, now with about six inches of blue. "It looks freaky," I said. "I think I'll cut the blonde off."

While I was assessing my looks, we pulled into the Flanders' driveway. Bart killed the engine, and for a moment it was silent in the car. I decided that it was a bit too awkward, and said, "Well, I'll be going, then. I need to study!"

Bart turned to me. "Well, if you need anything, we're right next door. Don't go to bed too late! You have to do well tomorrow so you can kick those other kids' asses."

I thought back to my induction into the Corvids. I thought about how all my classmates, upon learning that my name was Simpson, were whispering mean things about Bart and Homer. The thought, forgotten but not forgiven, made me angry. What did they know about Bart and Homer? _Nothing_. Yeah, they needed a good ass-kicking.

But they were my friends, too, and for that reason I had to stay up, and I had to study. I couldn't let the team down, when they were so set on winning. I had friends, for the first time in my life; I didn't want to make them mad at me, and I didn't want to lose them. I had to help them win the competition.

I bade goodnight to Bart and Tommy, and walked over to my house. I unlocked the door, and walked into the dark house. I glanced longingly at the refrigerator, and the delicious food it contained. My stomach rumbled. _NO! I have to work first! I can eat later, after I've done some work. _

But I better get that ibuprofen now, so it can work before the first vestiges of a headache develop. I walked into my bedroom, and over to my bedside table, where my big bottle of ibuprofen sat, waiting for me.

I swallowed two tablets dry, then went over to my desk, stacked high with thick, dryly written books. I opened the top one, and looked at the minute print that talked about the Great Depression.

Half a page down, I yawned loudly. My sleep over the weekend had been screwed up, and as a result I was suffering from a massive sleep deficit. It was too bad Bart wasn't there after all; he would have stopped me from dozing off. But no, I had sent him to the Flanders' house, and so it was my own fault when I fell asleep on top of the boring history book…

-O-

I woke in a panic. I looked around wildly, and then my eyes fell on the clock, which read **4:31am.**

SHIT!! I have an hour and a half to learn all this! There is NO WAY I can learn all this that fast! SHIT!

I started to cry. There was NO WAY I could learn everything I was supposed to learn. There was NO FUCKING WAY! I was supposed to be the _Captain_ of my team! Everyone depended on me to know this crap, and now that I didn't, they would all hate me…

I had been lonely all my life. It was great to have Tommy back, but I had friends, _other_ friends, _good_ friends, and I didn't want to lose them. I had lost Marge and Maggie. I had lost Homer. I had lost Bart and Tommy. I knew how it felt to lose people. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle losing my new friends. I _had_ to keep them. I would do _anything_ to keep them.

I sat there, wondering what I could do. _I could pretend to be sick… but they'll still do the preliminaries anyway, and if I'm not there that'll be just as bad. Maybe I could explain what happened, and they'd understand? _

No, they're dead set on winning this. They'd hate me.

Suddenly it came to me. I knew what I had to do. Forget that I was against it. I had done it before, and I could do it again.

I picked up the phone, and dialed the Flanders house. As I expected, the phone rang for a while, but it was finally answered by a groggy Tommy. "Hello?" he asked.

"Hey, Tommy…" I said, my voice shaking a bit. "Is… is Bart there?"

"Yeah… yeah, he's in Rodd's room…"

"Can you get him for me?"

Tommy yelled for Bart to pick up the phone, and then said to me, "Lis, is everything ok?"

I sighed. "No, Tommy, everything is _not_ ok! I'm _screwed_ unless Bart can help me."

There was a click, and then Bart said, "Lis, what is it?"

"Bart!" I said, beginning to cry again. "I fell asleep studying, and I have school in an hour and a half, and I don't know what to do, and everyone is going to hate me, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down!" he said. "So, lemme get this straight, you have to take a huge test in an hour and a half, and you haven't studied at all?"

I said, sadly, "Yeah."

"Well," he said, "if it were _me_, I wouldn't worry about it. BUT," he added, when I tried to interrupt, "but because this is so important to you, I think I have a way of helping you."

"You do?" I asked hopefully.

"Yes I do!" he said confidently. "As long as you aren't averse to…to _unauthorized study aids_."

"I was hoping you'd say that. I'll do _anything_. If you can get me 'unauthorized study aids', I would kiss your feet."

"Ugh," he responded. "But give me an hour, and I can get you your test answers. What competition is this, again?"

"The Albert Einstein National Knoweldge Bowl, preliminary round. But Bart, this isn't some stupid school test. This is a _national_ competition. I'm sure they have the answers locked away in a vault somewhere, guarded by soldiers with rifles…"

"Trust me, Lis. My guy will get you the answers. He's good."

"Who—" I started to ask, but Bart had already hung up the phone.

I looked at the huge pile of books in front of me. _Screw this_, I thought. _I trust Bart. He'll get me the answers. I'll memorize them on the way to Capital City, on the bus tomorrow. _My stomach gurgled. _I haven't had any food all night. I think pancakes would be good right about now._

I don't know whether it was resignation, or despair, but I decided that studying would be futile now. And so I went down to the kitchen, and made myself breakfast.

An hour after the phone conversation, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and looked at Bart hopefully.

He held out a manilla envelope, with the words 'HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL' on the front.

"Oh, Bart!" I said, and gave him a big hug, the biggest I could muster. "What would I do without you? First driving out to Scarletville and back for Tommy, and then getting these answers for me!" I started, once again, to cry. "I'm so glad you're back."

He hugged me back. "I'm glad to be able to help. I've been gone for years; it's time I made up for that." We let go of each other, and Bart turned to go. As he was walking out the door, a thought suddenly struck me. "Bart, how much did these answers _cost_?"

He turned to face me, and said, "Don't worry about it. He owed me a favor anyway, after I saved his ass." He paused, and then added, "and by the way, Nelson sends his regards."

I shivered. The last time I had procured test answers from Nelson, the repercussions had been _awful_.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O


	14. Cheating Myself and My Team

February 1, 2005

Firstly, I'd like to say a big thank you to **Gray Eyed Fighter** and **mimic91** ! I love you guys, and I hope we can keep emailing for a long time to come!

Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed! I love getting emails from readers, so feel free to email me, and we can talk about Simpsons, or Yu-Gi-Oh (my secret obsession!), or just about anything.

Hmm… it's been more than two months since my last update. I will _try_ to get Chapter 15 out in a much more timely fashion. (This chapter was giving me soooo much trouble. It took me forever to figure out how to make everything work out properly, and then it was so hard to write it out in a way that wasn't completely stupid.)

I just could not decide on a title for this chapter, so it will simply be Chapter 14. I tried a bunch of things, but none seemed to work. I might come up with one later, or if you have any suggestions…?

The next time I update this story, it may be with the brand-spankin' new Chapter 1 (which desperately, _desperately_ needs to be improved) or Chapter 15. Just giving the head's up. Also, I am contemplating a possible Simpsons one-shot that I might do in the not-too-distant future. Add in a new fic in another category, and I have a lot on my plate. Time to get crackin', I guess!

-

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Spinning for Hours

-O-

by Sir Mocha

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

-

****

Chapter 14

I walked hesitantly onto the charter bus, clutching my daypack to my chest tightly. My eyes scanned for seats available. Being one of the last on the bus, I didn't have very many choices left for a seatmate. And there was one person in particular that I needed to make sure I sat next to for the three-hour bus ride.

I guess I was lucky that day: my eyes saw the person, sitting by himself, staring out absently through the bus window. I made my way toward him.

"Hey Lisa!" said a voice from my right. I turned my head, and saw Needa pointing to an empty seat next to her. "You wanna sit next to me? We can play Pictionary all the way down!"

I loved playing Pictionary with Needa, and for a moment I was tempted to take her up on her offer. But the corner of a manila envelope, poking into my stomach, reminded me that I had a much more important task to complete on the way down. And as much as I regretted it, I said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Needa, I can't. I have work to do on the way down. We can play Pictionary on the way back, ok?"

"Oh," was all she said. "Well, you're still welcome to sit here, if you want."

I said uneasily, "Well, I really need more… more quiet, to get my work done." I glanced over at the seat I needed to sit in. "We can sit and talk on the way back, is that okay? And there's going to be a lot of free time today, too. We can gossip and draw there, ok?"

Her face fell. "Well, all right," she said uncertainly.

I gave her a halfhearted smile, then walked away. I could practically feel her eyes on my retreating back, which only made me feel worse. I did want to sit with her, I really did; I didn't want to hurt my friend with my refusal, but I could see no way around it. The task at hand was imperative, if I wanted to keep the friends I had made.

At long last, I reached the empty seat. I plopped down into it, and shoved my bag under my feet. When I righted, Martin was staring at me inquisitively. "To what do I owe this honor, Lisa?" he asked me. "I would expect that you would want to sit with your friends."

"You are my friend, Martin! What's the harm in catching up with an old friend?"

He gave me a Look that said plainly that he wasn't buying my excuse.

"Ok, ok," I said, a touch exasperated. "I _need_ to sit with you. I'll explain in a few minutes. Also, do you think I could have the window seat? I really don't want anyone seeing what I'm up to."

I could see curiosity, as well as skepticism, on his face. Finally, he said, "Well, if you want the window seat, you'll have to get out so we can switch."

I smiled. "Thanks, you have no clue how much you're helping me!"

He raised a brow. "Well, I expect to be told in a few minutes."

I didn't want to launch into my entire explanation while the bus was sitting here idly, and people around could overhear. I figured it would be wiser to wait until the bus was running; it would be louder, and people would be paying less attention to me.

While I waited to get going, I looked at my right upper arm, which bore a new decoration. Earlier that day, Soapy had pulled me to one side, and had proudly bestowed on me the black armband with the fancy gold lettering, proclaiming to the world that I was indeed a **CAPTAIN**. He, Celia, and Theo were wearing identical bands, and I was happy to put it on, and ascend the ranks from a mere competitor to a captain, overseeing my team of faithful Corvids. Then, after Soapy had left, I reflected on my newfound pride, and decided that it was rather silly and irrelevant. Still, I couldn't completely rationalize all the pride I felt, and as I looked down at the band again, I felt a small glow of satisfaction.

I then transferred my gaze to my hand, and _its_ new addition. That morning, before heading out to the buses, Mrs. Finch had asked us to listen to her for a minute, because she had something important to say.

-

…Flashback…

"Before we go, I wanted to firstly say that I have total confidence in your abilities to answer any question they throw at you. You have all worked very hard, and I expect our school to perform very well today.

"Secondly, I need our cute little freshmen to come up, because I have something to give you all."

I looked around at my classmates, who were smiling at us knowingly. I realized that this was a bit of a ceremony, like the first day of school had been. Feeling an odd sense of deja-vu, I led my teammates up to the front of the room, and stood in front of my teacher, who was holding a small velvet box.

"Freshmen," she said, "until now, you have been a member of the International Brethren and Sisterhood of Corvids, but you have had nothing to show for your efforts, and nothing to set you apart from the rest of the populace.

"However, it is custom that each Corvid receives a small token that identifies them as a member of the Brethren and Sisterhood. When you wear this, other Corvid will recognize your elite status, and you will receive assistance or benefits that you would not normally receive."

She opened the box, and I peered eagerly inside. Nestled in the wine-colored velvet were seven highly polished rings. Each was made of silver, and the highly distinctive bands were in the shape of two talons. The talons held a shining faceted black gem which shone brilliantly, even in the dim light of the classroom.

Mrs. Finch picked up one ring, and handed it to me. She handed it to me with her left hand, which I thought was a little odd, considering that she was right-handed. But then I saw the black gem sparkling on her finger, and I understood.

"So I'm guessing," I said quietly, "that it goes on my left index finger?"

"Naturally," she responded. "And just so you know, when two Corvid shake hands, they shake with their left hands. It's an age old custom, and you know how much Corvid love customs." She smiled at me.

I turned to walk back to my seat. As I walked back I noticed, which I hadn't before, that all my classmates had identical rings on. I slid mine on, and Needa, across the aisle, smiled at me.

Well, I wasn't big on jewelry, and especially not on rings. But wearing the ring that sparkled from all my friends' fingers helped reaffirm the strong camaraderie I felt. It also put into a new light the duty I had to my fellow Corvid. It was my duty to help them win the Knowledge Bowl, through any means necessary.

…_End Flashback…_

-

And a few minutes later, as the bus was heading past the Tire Fire, I pulled my bag out from under the seat. I looked around, making sure no one was paying especial attention, before I pulled out the manila envelope. I just held it for a moment, staring at the brown paper that covered the answers that would save me from failure at the Knowledge Bowl, and from losing my friends, who depended on me to know this stuff. Then, slowly, I undid the prongs that sealed the envelope, and withdrew a thick sheaf of papers. Printed very clearly, on the cover sheet, was **CONFIDENTIAL – ANSWERS**.

I looked furtively over at Martin, who was looking away. He caught my eye, then looked casually at the papers I held in my hand… and the usually stoic Martin had a true jaw-dropping-eyes-popping moment.

He looked around conspiratorially at the students across from him, then turned in his seat to face me. In a whisper, he asked, "Are those what I think they are!"

I bit my lip, and nodded.

"Why do… how… where did…" he seemed to be at a loss for words, but I got the general gist of his question, enough to answer them.

In an equally inconspicuous voice, I explained what had happened. "I was gone _all_ weekend, Martin. I had _zero_ time to study, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to answer any of the questions they asked! I didn't want to let the team down, so I figured I had to do something! Bar—um, I mean, I knew that your boyfriend was really good at getting answers to tests, so I sought him out for help. Incredibly enough, he was able to get these answers for me, and now I have to memorize the American History ones before we get to the competition, so I'll be able to answer the questions I'm supposed to, so I can help the team, so we can win."

He was silent for a moment, trying to register what I had said. Then he remarked, "Wow Lisa, that's not typical behavior for you. I only remember one other time you got the answers to a test, and you nearly went crazy with guilt."

I winced, remembering the one time in second grade that I had cheated on my Wind in the Willows test. True, I got an A-plus-plus-plus, and no one suspected, but I hadn't been able to live with the knowledge that I had bought the answers. I blurted it out in front of the entire school, as well as my teachers, nearly ruining the chance for Springfield Elementary to receive the funding it sorely, desperately needed…..

…..But this was different. Before, it had been a personal unwillingness to get a bad grade that drove me to cheating. This time, it was a much bigger competition, with much higher stakes. More importantly, everyone seemed to be so gung-ho about the contest, practically swearing in blood to get first place over the other schools.

Martin continued. "And I'm just wondering something… why did you decide to sit with me?"

"Well," I started, "everyone is so enthusiastic about winning this Knowledge Bowl and beating the competition. Personally, I don't really care about winning… and I don't think you really care either. You're the only one who doesn't really care, so I assumed that it wouldn't matter to you whether I had studied or not. And you seem like the type who wouldn't be averse to a little cheating."

He smiled a devilish smile, reminiscent of Bart in his younger years. "You're right. I think this whole competition is pretty stupid, and I think it would be better if everyone cheated. It would make things more interesting, at least. Nah, who cares if you studied or not? You have the answers right in front of you; I say use every "study aid" available.

"Just make sure you don't get caught. You'd get in serious trouble, and I'd go down as your accomplice because I knew you were cheating and let you get away with it. Hah, that would suck for me, wouldn't it?" With that, he faced forward, and jammed a pair of headphones over his ears. He started humming tunelessly along to what I could only imagine to be heavy metal.

I refocused my attention on the answer book. I knew it was wrong. I didn't want to cheat; it was against all my strongest principles. I hated cheating…

…But sometimes it was necessary.

I slowly and hesitantly turned the cover page away. Then, more readily, I flipped through until I got to the section labeled **World History**. A small subheading underneath read, "American History."

I read the first question, and then had to read it again to understand what it was asking of me. _This isn't too bad_, I realized. With that revelation, I calmed down slightly, though still with every intention of studying for the next three hours.

-O-

"Lisa… Lisa…" I woke to the sound of my name being called softly, and to gentle prodding on my shoulder.

I slowly opened my eyes, wincing at the bright light that flooded through the large bus window. After my eyes adjusted, I could see outside the bus a large marble building, ornamented with soaring columns and robed statues and that kind of neoclassical ornamentation. I figured that we had reached the Capital City Conference Center at long last.

I turned my head to the left, to see who had so gently woken me up. I saw a black sweater over a blue collared shirt, and above that a sandy blond head and large eyes behind thin wire-framed glasses. These eyes were currently regarding me suspiciously, and the mouth below was twisted inquisitively .

"Is there a problem Theo?" I asked, my heart fluttering stupidly at the name. Of all the people to wake me up from my nap, it _had_ to be the guy I had an infallible crush on. The way he tapped me so gently to wake me up… the way he called my name so gingerly, so tenderly…

"Um," he said, sounding hesitant for the first time since I'd re-met him, "no, there's no problem." But he was still looking down uneasily at me. Or rather, he was looking down uneasily at my lap…

_THE ANSWER PAPERS!_ Holy shit, I had forgotten all about them! I must have fallen asleep while I was studying them, and there they were, lying open on my lap for the whole world to see! Lying there for one of my friends, and fellow Corvids to see. Theo was smart; there was no doubt that he did not know what lay on my lap. Hopefully I could convince him that it was just a study guide, not the real thing.

"Wow," I said, trying for false confidence, "I must have fallen asleep studying for this Knowledge Bowl. I've been so worried, all weekend. I even went online and found a copy of the questions from a previous year, and I've been studying them. It's a bit out-dated, but it's helped me, I think." I hoped that the lie would suffice for an explanation. It sucked having to lie to Theo, but any alternative was worse.

"Ah," he said, a hint of doubt remaining on his handsome face. "Well, I was worried last year too, it being my first year and all. But the questions were a lot easier than I had been expecting." He smiled at me, but his eyes flickered back to the pages on my lap before flickering up to my face.

I looked away from those large eyes, unable to hold his gaze after the lie I had told him and the shame I felt from it. I looked quickly away, and around the bus. "So," I asked tentatively, "where is everyone?"

He smiled again. "Everyone was looking for you. We got off the bus about fifteen minutes ago, and I guess no one realized that you were still here. Mrs. Finch sent me up to check the bus again, and lucky me, I found you."

"Ah," I said absently. I noticed that Martin had left his bag, as well as his CD player, on the seat next to mine. _Thanks for not waking me up, pal_, I thought sarcastically. I looked around at the other seats, and noticed that most people had left their belongings as well. "Are we not allowed to bring our bags in?" I asked.

"You are," he explained, "but you have to take them through metal detectors, and x-ray machines, and have them inspected by the security guards. All the smartest students in the state are in this convention center; they're taking every precaution to make sure nothing unfortunate happens to result in our untimely deaths." He grinned.

"Of course," I replied, shoving the answer packet into my daypack. I definitely did not want my bag to be searched; that would be disastrous. I had my misgivings about leaving it here on the bus, but I didn't see any alternatives.

"Well," I said, getting up and stretching. "It sounds like everyone is looking for me, so I guess we don't want to keep them waiting." I crawled over Martin's seat, and stood up in the aisle, Theo ahead of me. We walked out of the bus, up the steps of the monstrous marble building, and through the large wooden doors. I looked up to the painted ceiling arching high overhead, a bit awed by the grandeur of the establishment. I didn't want to risk losing Theo in the meandering crowd of students, though, so I looked back down, and followed him to where my class stood, huddled in a corner near a statue of the first governor of the state.

"Lisa! There you are!" yelled Anna. "What kept you?"

"An amorous tryst with your secret lover Theo?" asked Lee, a roguish grin on his face.

"Ha ha," I said weakly. "I know you're jealous, Lee."

He was about to make some smart-mouth retort, but was interrupted by Mrs. Finch saying loudly, "Well there you are! Where were you, Lisa?"

"Heh… I fell asleep on the bus," I answered sheepishly. Behind my teacher, I could see Martin staring at me worriedly, as if to ask, "Did anyone find out while you were asleep?" I merely rose my eyebrows in response, and his eyes widened considerably.

"Well, now that we're all here," continued my teacher, unaware of the nonverbal communication going on, "I say that we should proceed to our common room. We'll be resting there while we're not in a testing session."

As we walked down the halls, Martin sidled up to me, and asked in the barest whisper out of the corner of his mouth, "WHO saw the answers?"

I sighed, and said quietly, "Theo found me on the bus, and I was asleep, with the answers on my lap. I told him they were from a past test I found online, but I think he was a little suspicious."

"Shit, Lisa," he replied, all traces of earlier merriment gone from his serious countenance. "You're going to get caught, and you're going to get me in trouble too."

"Well," I whispered back scathingly, "if you had woken me up when we got off the bus, he wouldn't have seen me! And anyway, Theo wouldn't turn us in, even if he _knew_ that they were the answers. He's too nice for that."

Martin thought for a moment, then whispered, "I sure as hell hope you're right." With that, he walked off to talk to Lee, and left me following the group by myself.

A minute later, we reached our common room. In this huge building of marble and velvet, it was a bit of a surprise to see a rather comfortable room filled with small four-person tables surrounded by pleasant-looking chairs, several overstuffed couches, and a large fireplace like the one in our classroom.

It was also a surprise to see the other students in the room. Our common room was the room for the Southwest region of the state, which included towns like Ogdenville, Shelbyville, and of course, Springfield. Roughly six other schools were in this room with us, and as soon as we walked in, all the chatter and noise stopped.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Montgomery Burns Corvids, back again for another year and another try at that championship title you try so hard to win," said a loud, patronizing voice from one corner. All the eyes in the room turned to a tall, slender brunette with a superior smirk on her face. "Fringe Finch, how nice to see you again."

"Sylvia, ever the pleasure," said Mrs. Finch coldly back, a glower barely concealed on her hard-set face. She turned to us. "For those of you who don't know, this is Ms. Mellon. She is the teacher of the Corvids at The Enriched Learning Center for Gifted Children."

_Aaah,_ I thought_, so this is the teacherat the rival school._ From the way the Learning Center Corvids were glaring at us, and the way my classmates were glaring back, I could tell that the rivalry was not merely between the teachers, but also between the students. From the way the other schools were silent, and watching with quite an interest, I could guess that the rivalry between our two schools was a well-established fact.

Ms. Mellon glanced at us. "New Corvids, I see?" she asked smugly. "I'm sure they're good, Fringe, but they're going to be disappointed when they see that my freshmen are in a class of their own."

"Sylvia, you know as well as I do that your students won last year by the slimmest margin ever. This year, my freshmen are going to be the ones that will put us ahead in the end. Then, I'm afraid, you and _all_ your students are going to be very disappointed." She smiled a mocking smile, which Ms. Mellon duplicated on her face.

"I guess we'll just have to prove which school is the better, won't we?"

"I guess we will."

As if those were the magic words, all the Burns Corvids filed quietly over to the area on the opposite side of the room from the Learning Center students. As soon as we sat down, conversation slowly started up throughout the room eventually achieving once again the volume it had had before the interruption.

"Wow," I said to Needa across from me. "That was a little intense."

She smiled at me. I took it as a sign that she had forgiven me for the bus thing from earlier. "Every year the two schools put on a show of false bravado. It's almost as if it's expected from us; it would be strange _not_ to have it."

I sighed. "Wouldn't it make more sense for the two Springfield schools to work together to beat the rest of the schools in the country?"

"You'd think," she replied, "but every year the Learning Center manages another miraculous win, and our school is getting a bit tired of it. What Mrs. Finch said is true; we're an excellent school and we're getting closer and closer each year to beating the Learning Center. Last year we got second in the finals, which is incredible. And yet, all the school that participate in the Bowl are longing to see the Learning Center beaten, and that includes us. They may be our neighbors, but they're definitely our biggest rivals."

With this, Needa had provided me with even more insight to this whole super-competitive aspect to the Corvids. I understood a little better why everyone was so determined to win; I had felt the exact same thing when I had first met Alex (one of my best friends until she moved away three years ago). Alex had done everything I did, except she was so much better at it than I was; she was smarter, younger, prettier, and a better sax player than I. You can imagine how frustrating this was, when I was so used to being the best. I was willing to take desperate measure to beat her in one contest, and only common sense had stopped me from doing something mean and vindictive. (Later on, we became friends, but I was always a little jealous of her talent.) I understood the desire to be the best, and the desire to do anything to accomplish this.

This certainly was confusing.

I was pulled out of my mulling by a crackle from the loudspeaker, followed by an official sounding voice. "Welcome to the one-hundred sixty-seventh Albert Einstein National Knowledge Bowl! We are pleased to welcome all the gifted high school students from across the state, and we wish you the best of luck in today's competition.

"Before we begin, we'd like to give you a rundown of the day's schedule. At ten o'clock, we will begin the first session of testing, and this session will continue until eleven-thirty. From eleven-thirty to twelve-thirty will be lunch, which will be served in the Sir Alexander Mackenzie Memorial Dining Hall. Twelve-thirty to two will be the second session of testing, with a half-hour break following in which refreshments will be served in the North Wing Reception Room. From two-thirty to four will be the third and final session, and score tabulation will take place from four to four-thirty, with the results announced at quarter to five.

"While not in testing, please feel free to relax in your assigned common room, or you may wander the Conference Center in the designated areas. Please be punctual to each testing session. Once the test has started, no one will be allowed in the room until the testing period is over. Any further announcements will be made over the announcement system during the course of the day. Thank you, and have a wonderful and exciting day."

I stood up, and looked at my watch, which read **9:17**. "We have a lot of time before the first session starts," I said to my friends. "You guys wanna go look around the place, see our competition? We're going to be sitting all day; we might as well get some exercise now."

"That sounds like a good idea, Lisa," said Akila. "Only, before we go, we should get our room assignments from Mrs. Finch, and we should figure out where we need to be at ten. You heard them; they're not going to let us in if we're late."

"Good idea," I agreed, walking towards Mrs. Finch. I got our room number for the first round, and after she wished us luck, we headed for the door.

Unfortunately, we would not escape the room unhindered. At one table near the door sat a group of students who looked to be our ages. On their fingers glittered the telltale black gemstones of Corvids, and on their faces were looks of the utmost contempt. One tall girl with frizzy hair stood up, and walked over to stare down at me. It was then that I noticed the black-and-gold armband she sported, similar to mine. "I guess you're the freshmen," she said, sneering.

I smiled up at her, a mocking smile. "There's no need to get angry. We're all friends here." I realized, in one part of my mind, that I was actually _into_ this competition. I was into winning. I was into beating the pulp out of our rival school.

"Who's angry?" she replied. "Actually, it's more pity I feel right now. I really feel sorry for you all, because you're going to go home crying after we kick your sorry asses."

"Tsk, tsk," I said snidely, delighting in the growing anger I could see on the girl's face. "Must you resort to profanity? With your supposed intelligence, I would assume that you had a vocabulary that _showed_ that you have a brain in your head. What a shame it's lacking." I reached up and patted her on the head, as one would a small child or a dog.

I think I had taken it too far. The girl, red in the face, clenched her hands into fists. I think she wanted to beat me, and she probably would have if some of my friends had not interceded.

"Woah, Lisa, calm down," said Martin quietly, grabbing my tensed shoulders and steering me away from the enraged girl. "I thought you weren't into this whole "violently competitive" thing."

Some of the smoke cleared from my eyes (so to say, of course). "Well… I…" I sputtered. Suddenly my actions a few moments ago seemed overly dramatic, and uncharacteristically cruel of me. I was supposed to be a Buddhist, for goodness sake! I was supposed to advocate peace, and cooperation… I wasn't supposed to goad people into fighting me for something as trivial as a school competition!

And yet, I definitely wanted to win. She was not the first person I had seen all day who was aggressive and unpleasant and arrogant for no good reason. She and those like her did not deserve to win, and I wanted to see that she didn't.

Geez, who realized a bunch of nerds (myself included) could get so worked up over something so stupid?

I don't know how my friends managed to get out of there unscathed. (I assume it was largely due to Lee's fast-talking charisma, and Amaryllis' all-around good-natured persuasion.) I do know that I was steered out into the hall and down it a ways, until I was far enough away to calm down. And for thirty-five minutes, I regained my composure as my group of friends toured the halls of the Conference Center, admiring the stately paintings of past governors and the artistic paintings of the state's scenery, the elegant marble statues of mythological and historical heroes, and the vivid tapestries depicting historical events.

We were in the middle of observing a burnished brass statuette of the Marquis de Lafayette, when the familiar crackling emitted from the loudspeaker a few feet away. And following it was the seemingly-innocuous announcement that would change the rest of my life.

"Would all Montgomery Burns Corvids please report to the common room immediately."

Martin and I immediately exchanged ominous glances. I think we were both hoping that this sudden and immediate summons was for something other than what we feared. I think I physically shivered at the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone had found out about our cheating.

No. There's no way they could have found out. Only a few people know…me, Bart, Martin, Nelson… Why would any of them tell? Did they find the answers? How could they? I left them back on the bus…

Faintly I could hear someone asking, "Why are they asking us to come back _now_? It's almost time to begin Session One!" I nodded a bit numbly, still trying to convince myself that I was getting all worked up over nothing. The odds were a million to one…

Dutifully we headed back towards our common room. Along the way we passed small groups of students who were wondering about the unusual announcement. It seemed that _everyone_ knew that something was up.

Twenty feet away from the common room, I wondered, _Holy shit, what is going to happen to me?_

Fifteen feet away, I thought, _You're crazy, Lisa. They have no clue what you did._

Ten feet away, I worried, _They can't prove it was me! I'll lie if I have to… goodness knows I've done enough of that already, and a little more won't hurt._

Five feet away, I decided, _It's good news… they're going to give us good news, like we're so smart that we automatically advance to the finals, or something…_

As soon as I walked in, I was faced with an empty room save for my classmates, my teacher, and several of the largest, sternest, sourest adults ever. I knew now that this was not good.

They made us sit down at several of the tables, and then one security guard stepped forth. In his hands, he held…

…my daypack…

I looked at Martin, whose eyes were wide and fearful. I have no doubt that mine were the same, or worse. I directed my gaze back to the guard, who had begun to speak.

"After you all exited the bus, we directed the driver to park in the garage, underneath the conference center. As protocol demands, we had to do a thorough search of the bus, and its contents, before allowing it under the building."

_"All the smartest students in the state are in this convention center; they're taking every precaution to make sure nothing unfortunate happens to result in our untimely deaths."_ Theo had said this earlier on the bus. Of course they would search the buses. I should have realized that.

A stocky woman strode forward, holding in her hands a familiar looking manila envelope. She concealed no emotion; her outrage and disgust were evident. "We found _these_ in the bag of one student from this school. Frankly, I am completely shocked that students of such a reputable school would result to… to… _cheating_!" she spat. She shook the envelope. "This is completely unacceptable! I see no alternative than to disqualify you from this year's competition, and from future competitions."

Cries of surprise, and protest, broke out from my classmates, while I sat there feeling miserable for causing such _awful _consequences.

The woman continued loudly, effectively silencing my classmates. "I hardly believe that every one of you was in on this disgrace. Therefore, I will offer _one_ chance for redemption. If the guilty student confesses, then we will discuss this school's further participation in this Knowledge Bowl. If no one admits to this heinous crime, then you will all shortly be heading home."

_A way out!_ I could save my school; I could save my friends! I just needed to confess to being guilty, and we would be allowed to compete, and save the honor of our school and our town. We would have a shot at beating those godawful Learning Center Corvids, and we would have a shot at finally achieving the first place everyone had been striving for so long. I knew, I knew, that if given the chance my classmates would succeed.

_But what would they do to me? _I was looking at the biggest punishment of my life! I could be kicked out of the Corvids, out of the magnet program, out of the school! It would go in my permanent records that I majorly, majorly, cheated, and I would not be able to get into any colleges in four years' time! I would end up at the Kwik-E-Mart… at the Krusty Burger… I would be saving the reputation of my school, but at the sacrifice of my future! No, the stakes were much too high.

I though of my friends. If they were forced to go home in shame, they would be upset, and they would be furious, but we could all be furious together. If no one ever knew what I had done, we could still be friends; I would still have people that cared for me, and loved me. If I admitted to being the guilty one, they would respect my honesty… but they would hate me. I would go from Lisa the Loved to Lisa the Loathed, all in one day. No, I couldn't sacrifice the friendships I had made…but…

I looked furtively around at my classmates. They looked worried, they looked shocked, they looked desperate for someone to come forward and admit to being wrong. Soapy, in particular, looked awful. I knew it was his last year, and he wanted more than anything else to win this. And next to him, Mrs. Finch sat, an awful grimace on her face. For once, she had no creative solution, no way to make this better. She too had her reputation on the line, as an educator and as a mentor. Anna, Lee, Akila, Eoh… they had studied so hard for this, they wanted so earnestly to prove themselves against the Learning Center, and the other opposition… Amaryllis, Celia, and Needa, my best friend…they were veterans who needed to avenge their loss from last year…

My eyes fell on two of my friends, sitting side by side, looking at me with significant looks. Martin's gaze was conflicted; on the one hand, he knew as I did that every one of my classmates wanted this so badly, and I should do the noble thing and admit to cheating, and give them a chance to compete. On the other hand, he was worried that if I went down I would take him with me, intentionally or not. True, he was a rebel, and enjoyed getting in trouble, but he knew how detrimental something like this could be to his reputation.

I looked over to the person sitting next to him, and nearly gasped in shock. Theo was staring at me as he had never stared before; fury was written into every feature on his usually amiable face. Like I had said, he was no dummy; he was able to put two and two together, and he knew, he _knew_, that the bag and the answers were mine. He was furious with me for ruining his chances to compete, and to be perfectly honest, it really hurt me that he was so angry with me.

Perhaps I would have been able to retain my friendships with most of my friends, but I think the pressure would have killed me first. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep something this big a secret for long, and when it finally did come out… it would be so much worse.

The woman looked around accusingly at us. Finally she said, "I suppose that no one is going to come forth with the truth—"

"No," I said, standing up. My chair fell to the carpeted floor with a soft _thud_, easily audible in the dead silence. Then, there was a collective intake of air as all my classmates turned to face me, and gasped.

I swallowed, then said, "The answers are mine. None of my classmates had any knowledge of them; they do not deserve to be punished. Punish me as you see fit; let them compete."

The woman shook her head as she looked me over, taking in my Captain armband. "Young lady, the actions you have taken today are deplorable, and you have no authority to tell me what I will and will not do with your classmates. However, I respect your honesty, and because you are being straightforward with me, I will allow your classmates to compete in this Knowledge Bowl."

Everyone released the pent-up breaths they had been holding. There was relief, as they found that they would be allowed to compete, tempered with shock and disapproval for me, and my actions. I cast my eyes down to the floor, unable to meet anyone eye to eye. I didn't want to see any of my friends. I didn't want to see their judgement, or their anger.

It seemed, though, that the woman was not yet done. "As the circumstances are, however, I do not see how we can allow your team to compete. We have no way of knowing how much information was shared between you and your teammates. The sophomores, juniors, and seniors will still be allowed to compete, but we have decided that the freshmen team will be disqualified from this round of competition."

My classmates started whispering in horror-filled tones. "Not compete? How can we get in the top twenty-five percent of the schools if twenty-five percent of _our_ school is disqualified? … How are we going to get enough points to make it to the next round? … This is all Lisa's fault…"

I hung my head. I did not want to see any of my livid teammates' faces, and I did not want them to see the tears that had started to cascade down my cheeks.

I had screwed up royally, and there was no one to blame but myself.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O


	15. The Nightmare with a Very Happy Ending

****

March 6, 2005

Thanks as usual to all my wonderful, fabulous reviewers who feed my ego with your wonderful comments. A special thank you to all those lovely people who have kept up emails with me… HINT HINT. I'd love to hear from you all.

Just the heads up on some dates coming up soon. I'm gonna try to stick to these, though I can't make promises. On 3-23, I'm going to be posting Chapter 16. On 4-8, I'm gonna put up Chapter 17, and on 4-21 I'm either gonna post Chapter 18 or, more likely, that revision of Chapter 1 I've been wanting to do. So I guess we'll all be able to laugh uproariously when, two months from now, I post and say, "Well I _meant_ to put this chapter up sooner…" Yeah, we all know how good of an updater ol' Sir Mocha is…

Eh… a shorter chapter than the last one, I'm afraid, but it has a very nice ending in my opinion, one that I think some people have been waiting for. Also, I'd just like to take this time for a little ego booster: With this chapter, I will have the longest Simpsons story on and I hope that it will also push me past the 200 review mark! How exciting… and 15 is such a nice number for a chapter of such significance. Yeah, you all can stop looking at me crazy, and read the damn chapter…

-

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Spinning for Hours

-O-

by Sir Mocha

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

-

** **

Chapter 15: The Nightmare with a Very Happy Ending

I suppose that the Knowledge Bowl was one of those events I'll look back on later and laugh at. I'll laugh at the pain, the shame, and the humiliation. I'll just write them off as another case of tacky teenage angst.

I will say, thought, that at the time I was feeling quite miserable. And my friends, or should I say my ex-friends, weren't exactly being supportive of me. They waited until our classmates had left for the competition (might I add, with many angry looks at me) before setting in upon me, like wolves anxious to tear an unsuspecting seal apart.

"What the hell Lisa?" asked Lee, as soon as the administrators had left the room. "What the HELL were you trying to pull?"

Anna got to her feet, and stared down at me angrily. "Do you realize what you've done? DO YOU? I studied so damn hard for this competition. I nearly killed myself, and you THREW it AWAY by cheating!" She had tears in her eyes.

"No, Anna, I didn't want to, but—" I tried to explain. But she wasn't willing to listen to my explanation. She hissed, and stalked off angrily out the door, only to be followed by a concerned Lee who shot me a dirty look before following his girlfriend. "Anna, wait," I could hear him yell as he exited the room.

But of course, I still had my other classmates to contend with. Even Akila, who was normally very rational and quiet, said in a callous tone, "I'm sure you have a _very_ good explanation, Lisa, but I really don't feel like listening to it." She walked off coldly out of the common room doors, presumably to sit and stew in peace.

I turned back to Ralph and Eoh, who quite obviously turned away from me, then left as the others had. In desperation, I looked at Martin, who was sitting across from me at the table. His face was completely unreadable; I couldn't tell if he was sympathetic, but at least he wasn't glaring daggers at me like the rest of my friends.

I gave him a pleading look, as if to say, "You knew… you understand, right?" He just shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders. Then, to my disgust, he got up, and headed for the door the others had already exited out of.

"Martin," I said quietly, "you knew. You _knew_ I was cheating, and you didn't care. How can you be mad at me!"

He turned his head, and looked over his shoulder at me. "I don't know, Lisa. I just… I don't know." He left, the one person who might have sympathized with me. He left me all alone in that cavernous room, which was as cold and empty as my emotions.

I didn't know how to feel; everything was kind of numb. I had done the right thing, and I had saved my upperclassmates. I had given them the chance to participate in their stupid Knowledge Bowl, and yet there was immeasurable disgust in their eyes. I had _sacrificed_ myself, and it meant nothing to them! How could they? Didn't they realize how hard it was for me to do that? Shouldn't they have shown me at least the _tiniest_ sympathy? What kinds of friends were they anyway?

I could understand the resentment of my fellow freshmen. Unlike the others, _they_ were not allowed to compete. They were not allowed to prove themselves, and their intelligence. They had every right to be furious. I had blown it for us. But still… did they have to be so vocal in their anger? Couldn't they have gone away before cursing me?

But they had gone away. The result was this huge room, devoid of any others. It was a cheater room, a room where only the condemned would sit, while everyone else was in competition. It was the room for the heinous, while the virtuous went forth in competition for glory. There was no glory for me, or for my fellow freshmen. Only shame…

__

I can't stay here, I realized. _I can't face all of them, when they come back champions. I can't face their hostility, their antipathy, their malice... I have to go._

I left the room, hoping against hope that I would not run into one of my former friends. Once, I think I saw Martin's shoe disappearing into one of the men's rooms, but I didn't stop to verify. Instead, I tried to find the hall I had seen earlier, the one with the pay phones. I needed to call Bart.

"So, Lis," he said upon answering the Flanders' phone, "I suppose you have a good reason for calling collect in the middle of a school day, when you're supposed to be in the middle of a big competition?"

"Oh, Bart," I said, "I'm _so _glad I got you. Aren't you usually out during the day?"

"Are you kidding?" he asked. " It's, what, ten? To be honest, you woke me up. But this isn't about me, this is about you. So what do you want?"

I stood there silently. What _did_ I want? Well, I guess I wanted Bart to pick me up, so I wouldn't have to stay. Call me a coward, but I was afraid of what would happen once my classmates were out of session. And I couldn't even _imagine_ how awkward and unpleasant the bus ride home would be. So yes, I wanted Bart to come rescue me.

"Things aren't going well," I said, surprised at the waver in my voice. I could feel tears pricking in the corners of my eyes. Before I lost it completely, I blurted out, "Can you come get me?"

I could practically _hear_ Bart's eyebrows rise. "Um, aren't you in the middle of a competition?"

"Please, I just really, really need to go home. I can't stay another minute…" I could barely choke out that sentence; my throat was closing up, and tears were rolling down my face.

"Fine, I'll come and pick you up. But Lis, it's not exactly a short drive… it's going to take me a few hours to get there. You owe me big time for this."

"Mmm hmmm," I said. "Thank you so much Bart. I love you."

"I love you too, Lis," he said, sounding a bit surprised. Then I could hear a click, and I hung up my phone as well.

__

I have three hours until Bart gets here. I am not spending them in this depressing place, I thought to myself, wiping my eyes on my orange sleeve, leaving it a darker, wet orange. _I guess I should leave a note, though, so they know I haven't jumped off a bridge to end it all._ I was sad, yes, and desolate, but I wasn't going to kill myself. I had more sense than that.

I strode back to the common room, and found a spare sheet of paper and a pen on a table. I proceeded to write a note, and left it on the table. It read,

__

Dear everyone,  
I'm so sorry for what I've done. I'm getting a ride home from my cousin; I don't want to stay around here and cause any more trouble. If you'll listen to me, I'll explain to you all why I had to resort to cheating. I just hope you'll listen to me, and I hope you'll forgive me.  
Lisa

I left it in plain sight on the table I had been sitting at. Then, walking cautiously to avoid attention, I slipped out a side door of the Conference Center, and found myself in the middle of a bustling Capitol City.

__

Where can I go for three hours? I wondered. I hoped I didn't look too bad, from crying. I didn't want any pedestrians to notice me. I wanted to remain invisible; I had had too much of the black spotlight, and I just wanted to blend in for a while, and be alone in peace.

I looked up and down Wayne Street, trying to spot any place I could go for a while. As I didn't see anything, I just started heading down the sidewalk, in the back of my mind keeping track of where I was going, so I could find my way back. As I walked, I passed fancy boutiques, quaint cafés, cozy pubs, and marble and brass office buildings.

I contemplated just walking around for three hours, seeing the city, when a sign caught my eye. It was neither a big sign nor a flashy sign, but I recognized at once the symbol on it. Even in the middle of a big city, I could find a public library, and I knew that I would find some solace there for the next few hours.

I followed the sign to a building, recessed behind the others. It was an older building, but stately in its own way and welcoming at the same time. I entered, and breathed in the familiar smell of all libraries, the smell of old paper and glue bindings. It was a quiet smell, a peaceful smell.

Passing through the rows, all the old familiars caught my eyes: Shakespeare, Bronte, Jane Austen, Tolstoy, Twain, and the others I had enjoyed reading throughout the years. And yet, I really wasn't in the mood for something knowledgeable and enlightening today. I had had enough Knowledge for a lifetime; I wanted mindless drivel.

I located the young adult section, which I had visited rarely at the library in Springfield. I just wasn't a fan of teen books; they had too much pointless romance, too much whining and shallowness. I kind of wanted to read something like that today, though. My eyes fell on a slim paperback with a bubblegum-pink spine. Intrigued, I pulled it from the shelf, and read the title: _How Boyfriends are like Pimples._

__

Well, I thought, _I _was_ looking for something stupid…_

****

-O-

Walking back from the library, I strained my eyes, staring ahead towards the Conference Center for any sign of that red station wagon that meant my salvation. _You better be here, Bart_, I thought, wanting desperately to get home. I couldn't stand being around this place any longer, and being around the people inside – not to mention that I had lost valuable brain cells from reading that stupid library book.

Off in the distance I saw the car, and a tall figure leaning against its door. As I approached it, I could make out the longish blond hair, and I saw a thin line of smoke rising into the air, undoubtedly from the cigarette Bart was smoking.

"Well, look who it is," he said pointedly, as soon as I got within earshot.

I smiled softly. "You really shouldn't be smoking, should you?"

He didn't miss a beat. "You're lecturing _me_ about my habits when it was _you_ who called to get out of a nerd championship three hours away from home?"

I frowned, and Bart looked at my face, and sobered. "Well, get in the car, why don't you? Time is money, after all."

(Later I would realize how very true this was for him, but I digress…)

He started up the engine, and then paused, and said, "Um, you didn't bring anything with you, did you? 'Cause I'm not driving two hundred miles back to get your stupid stuff." I winced. _Those damn answers._ I clenched my fists, and tears came to my eyes, though whether those were tears of anger or humiliation, I don't know.

I think he saw that he struck a nerve, because he said quickly, "Well, I guess not, let's go." With a squealing of tires that scared a pigeon flock nearby, we tore out of the parking lot, and down the road, relatively traffic free for a large city in the middle of the day… which is to say, not traffic free at all.

"Ok," he said a few minutes into the drive, "now can you _please_ explain to me what is going on? And I'm expecting a pretty good excuse."

"Yes _dad_," I said sarcastically, trying to figure out how much to tell him. He already knew about the answers of course, and I was pretty sure he remembered that time all those years ago when I had last cheated. I decided that it wouldn't hurt to tell him everything, which is precisely what I did. For twenty minutes I told him about getting to the Conference Center, and falling asleep and almost getting found out, and then actually _getting_ found out. I even told him about the awful reactions my friends had.

"Well, of course they're mad," he replied rationally. "You screwed their chances to win this stupid competition, and now they're pissed off little nerds. Give em a little time – they'll cool off their eggheads and be as friendly as usual."

I didn't like Bart's disparaging remarks about my friends – or ex-friends – geez, this was so confusing! "Well, should I try to make amends?" I asked. Upon receiving a blank look, I clarified, "Should I say I'm sorry?"

"Sounds like you already tried," responded Bart coolly. "If they don't listen to you, then they're little bastards who don't deserve an apology." And that was the end of that.

I sighed, looking out the car window at the scenery flashing by. I know this may sound a bit cliché, but I felt that my life was racing out of control the same way the trees were racing by outside. Needa and the others were mad at me, Theo was mad at me, and I didn't know how they were going to feel when I had to face them again.

I took Bart's words to heart. I hoped so badly that, after a day or so, they would cool down, and they would listen to my explanation, and they wouldn't judge me too harshly. Regardless, tomorrow would be an interesting day at school.

****

-O-

Fortunately, nobody yelled at me when I walked into the classroom.

Unfortunately, nobody really said anything to me all day.

I had thought that we were supposed to be so intelligent, and such enlightened thinkers. Personally, I found it immature that they decided to give me the silent treatment all day. They didn't say anything to me, so from conversation alone, I never would have known whether they were mad at me, or just disappointed in general.

The looks of malice they gave me, though, told me that I was in deep trouble. Even Mrs. Finch, while teaching us three-dimensional rotational kinematics, stared coldly at me when I had the audacity to raise my hand to answer a question. I didn't raise it again that day.

I could see, out of the corner of my eye, the way my classmates would whisper, and glare at me malevolently. Before the knowledge bowl, I had been relatively popular, and had enjoyed many a whispered gossipy conversation with my friends when we were supposed to be learning. Now though, I had to sit there, my cheeks burning as I heard all the bad things my classmates had to say about me.

__

"Cheater…liar…traitor…"

That hurt. That _really, really_ hurt. When I heard Anna tell Lee how I was "a lazy backstabber who liked to ruin others' lives," I couldn't take it anymore. I bowed my head, and tried to keep my tears hidden from the others. If they saw me crying, they would know that they had gotten to me, and they would probably find some sort of cruel pleasure out of making me miserable.

__

I guess that clenches it, I thought, resigned. _I guess they really don't care what I have to say to defend myself, like real friends would. It looks like, again, I'm on the outside, looking in._

All that emotional investment into these people I thought were my friends! All the times I felt so confident, so happy, so loved, it was all for nothing. They were ostracizing me, hurting me on purpose, when I thought I could trust them.

I heard the bell ring, and I just left my stuff on the table and hurried out of the room. I would probably come back to find it vandalized or gone, but I could not stay in that room with those people any longer. I had to be alone; I had to get away from their taunts, from their anger, from their eyes…

I realized that I was walking towards the gym, and the entrance to the Dining Hall under the bleachers. _I ran out of there,_ I reasoned, _so I'll probably get to the dining hall before the others. I can just grab my lunch and go… go…_ But where would I go? I couldn't eat lunch with Needa's crazy friends; they were more her friends than mine, and if she were there it would be waaaay too awkward. And I couldn't eat lunch in the Corvid dining hall, for reasons that don't need to be explained.

__

Well, there's always the cafeteria, I thought glumly, thinking of the hot, smelly, loud room dominated by obnoxious jocks and preppy sluts. If I ventured into that unknown territory, I would not come out unscathed…I might not even come out at all. The regular students did _not_ value intelligence, except as a good excuse to terrorize someone innocent.

__

I guess I'll cross that bridge once I come to it. I should get my food first, before the others show up. I pulled out my ID card, and held it before the hidden sensor in order to gain access to the dining hall.

"Identification invalid!" it barked at me. "You are not authorized to enter this area."

__

What! I thought. _I've always been allowed in!_ I tried again .

"Identification invalid! You are not authorized to enter this area."

"That's right!" yelled a voice behind me. "You're not allowed in because we don't want you in."

I turned, and stared disbelieving. Amaryllis, who was usually so calm and amiable, was glaring at me with an unpleasant sneer on her face. She was standing at the head of a large group of my classmates, and none of them looked very happy to see me.

"What? You're banning me from eating lunch? I'm just gonna get my lunch and go…"

"Oh, so you're just going to run away again, like you did yesterday?" she asked me snottily. "Just going to RUN AWAY so you don't have to face the mess YOU started?"

__

Well, at least they're talking to me, I thought dryly. _Although I'm not quite sure this would be considered an improvement…_ "I've been trying to explain – " I started to say, but she wasn't quite done whaling on me.

"No. No one cares what you have to say! Maybe if you had been a better teammate, and if you had _thought_ about all of _us_, we would think about _you_. But you were so SELFISH, you don't even deserve to be in the presence of Corvids right now."

I was very aware of the ring on my finger. Where before it had rested snugly, it now felt like it was biting into my finger, reinforcing what Amaryllis was saying. Viciously I tore it off, and threw it on the ground at her feet.

"You THINK you all are so GREAT!" I spat. "You STARE DOWN at anyone who isn't SNOOTY and ELITIST like you all are! Why don't you get off you fucking HIGH HORSES and learn some MANNERS with those 'SUPERIOR INTELLECTS'of yours!" Stunned by my outburst, they just stared as I stormed out from under the bleachers, and out the gym into the warren of side halls surrounding it.

I made it a few dozen feet before collapsing against the wall in the middle of the vacant hall. Too much… too much adrenaline, too many emotions, too much drama and angst. I just sat there, sobbing out all the regret and grief of the past few days. Why, when everything seemed to be going best, did everything have to fall apart? Why was it always my fault, and why was I always so severely punished for my mistakes? Was I not allowed to be imperfect? Was I not allowed to be human?

I don't know how long I spent sitting there, but I was impervious to everything else except my wracking emotions. It was miserable, it was awful, and it made me feel like utter crap. Like they say, though, every cloud has a silver lining. In my case, every thunderstorm has a solid gold lining, and even the most deplorable situation can lead to something exquisite.

My sobs had abated after a while, but I was still crying as I heard footsteps approach. _Oh great,_ I thought bitterly, _someone has come to kick me while I'm down. I would expect nothing less from those jerks._ I was about to tell the person to fuck off, but he spoke up first.

"Lisa?" he asked tentatively. I was surprised; I didn't hear any anger in his voice, and it was the first kind thing anyone had said to me all day.

I looked up to see my sandy-haired Adonis staring back down at me, the fury of yesterday replaced by concern in his large eyes. I thought broodingly for a second about how I must look to him, my eyes and nose red from crying. I guess I didn't phase him, though, because his gaze never wavered from that compassionate pity.

"I guess you're not here to scorn me?" I asked quietly, my throat raw from my sobs.

Theo just shook his head unobtrusively. "I saw what happened in the gym. I was mad about yesterday, yeah, but I also thought Amaryllis was treating you unfairly. I want to hear your side of the story, because I'm sure you have a good explanation." He slid down, and settled next to me, his back to the wall and his face turned towards me.

Well, this was certainly unexpected. I smiled a small smile, but inside I was beaming. He didn't hate me! He valued what I had to say! What a great guy! _Don't get overexcited_, I warned myself. _He just wants to hear what you have to say. He hasn't forgiven you yet._

Tentatively at first, then more and more fluidly, I explained what had led me to cheating. I explained how Tommy had called for help, and I explained the hundreds of miles spent driving to him, and the hours and hours spent in the hospital waiting for him to heal. I explained how I hadn't brought along any study materials, and then – more reluctantly – I explained the unbelievable pressure I felt to succeed, for my classmates' benefit, that had driven me to cheating. After I finished my story, I looked expectantly at him, hoping he understood my motives.

He stared at the opposite wall, and I could see that he was thinking over everything I had just told him. Unconsciously I held my breath, sitting up nervously, awaiting his response.

Finally, he smiled a little, and said, "I understand, and I probably would have done the same thing."

I released my pent-up breath with a relieved sigh, and slumped down. He understood! He understood, and he admitted that he would have done the same thing! I realized, now, that although it was the wrong thing to do, I wasn't utterly horrible for doing it! Maybe he wouldn't shun me anymore. Maybe I still had a friend.

"It's… it's just been really difficult," I tried to explain, "because I keep trying to tell people but everyone refuses to listen to me! I already felt awful for ruining the Knowledge Bowl, and I can't even apologize to anyone because no one cares!" I was surprised to find that I was shaking a little, thought from what I couldn't tell.

He turned his head, and from behind his wire framed glasses I could see sympathy in his eyes. "I think part of the reason they're so mad is that they didn't do as well as they wanted. I mean, the freshmen weren't allowed to compete, but if we all had done as well as we should have, we would have placed in Beta division. I know at least that my group didn't do to well with literature, and Celia says that the juniors weren't too hot in the science competition. I think people were mad that they only did a mediocre job, and so they used you as a scapegoat to avoid taking responsibility for their poor performance, and for ranking in Gamma division."

That wasn't exactly reassuring. "But I thought Mrs. Finch said that we were one of the best teams in years! If people did badly, it was only because they were preoccupied with what I did! So it _was_ my fault that we didn't qualify."

He looked perplexed. "You mean no one told you? We _did_ qualify!"

"…What! How could we? It's only Alpha who qualify, and I thought you said we got in Gamma…?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Finch looked though the rule book, and found some archaic rule that says, basically, that because we got second last year we automatically qualify for the finals this year." His brow furrowed. "I can't believe no one told you!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not too popular right now," I said bitterly, bowing my head and staring balefully at my shoes. Faintly I head the bell ring, echoing through the almost empty hall.

I felt an arm drape itself across my shoulders, and pull me into a friendly one-armed hug. Surprised, I looked up at Theo, who was smiling. "What am I, chopped liver?" he asked. "You don't need them. I'll be your best friend in the world."

If I hadn't been leaning against the wall, I think I would have swooned. This was just like one of those crappy teen movies, except from my perspective, it was a lot more enjoyable. A _lot_ more.

I nearly pouted (Yeah, me. Lisa Simpson. POUTING! Can you imagine it?) when he withdrew his arm and stood up, dusting off his pants. Then he offered me a hand up, which I gladly accepted, and stood facing him.

"You look like crap," he said bluntly. "Your eyes are all red."

"Well, thank you Mr. Fashion Guru," I said sarcastically, a smile creeping onto my face. Then, just as suddenly as it was there, it disappeared. "I really, really do not want to go back to that room."

"It'll be fine," he reassured me. "Remember, you don't need them."

__

Because now I have you, I thought happily. I really wouldn't have guessed that such a horrible nightmare could have such a satisfying ending. It was a convoluted way of going about it, but I was finally getting attention from the guy I had such a huge crush on. It was crazy! My world was spinning before my eyes, and I had the feeling that it would be spinning for at least a few more hours before I could absorb it all.

"Hey, Theo," I said demurely. "Thanks."

"No problem," he responded cheerfully, and together we walked down the long winding hall back to our classroom.

****

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O


	16. My White Knight

March 29, 2005

I was just a _few_ days late… not even a week!…

Awesome possum. Actually, there are not that many chapters left in this story… as scary as that is. We're (somewhat) approaching its second birthday, and there have only been 16 chapters to date. I'm predicting, by the end, to have 21-22 chapters, depending on how I decide to do the ending. Any suggestions? Happy? Sad? Open for a sequel? (I have a brilliant sequel in mind, but I don't know if I have the patience to write it.)

This chapter's kinda short, and fluffiness abounds. I'll make up for it soon, I promise. Chapter 17 is coming on April 8th, which is my third anniversary on ff-net!

Spinning now has **OVER 200** reviews! Yay! Party hats and noisemakers for all! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You make me so happy...

-

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**Spinning for Hours**

**-O-**

by Sir Mocha

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

-

****

Chapter 16: My White Knight

"Seriously… you saw The ReDeadening when you were eight?"

"Heh… yeah, Homer took my brother, my neighbors, and me to see it because one of his friends was in it."

"Your dad sounds like an interesting character."

"Oh, you have no idea," I replied, laughing.

We were sitting on my backyard, swinging on my hammock. It was the most beautiful March day, unseasonably warm and sunny, with a light breeze that caused the trees to sway gently. The light, passing between the leaves, cast sunny speckles down on us that danced with the breeze.

"I LOVE Fridays!" I exclaimed, leaning back suddenly and causing the hammock to sway wildly.

"Ah, me too!" mimicked Theo, flopping back as I had done. He was heavier than I was, and I guess the sudden motion disturbed the balance of the hammock… because the next thing I knew, I was flipping through the air, though fortunately my fall was cushioned… by my face.

I picked myself up off the ground, spitting out grass that had – somehow – found its way into my mouth. I looked over at Theo, who was doing much the same thing, his glasses hanging off one ear, quite askew.

"Thanks for that," I remarked sarcastically. "I always love to start my weekends with a nice face plant. It really brings me _back to Earth_."

"Ha ha," he replied, pushing himself up and jumping back on the hammock. "Well, at least now you don't need plastic surgery anymore. Now, you almost look pretty."

"Ouch!" I said, mock hurt. I pushed myself up, and proceeded to flip the hammock over again, dumping Theo ungracefully on his back on the ground. I stared down at him. "I know you love me, so don't deny it. You're infatuated by my stunning beauty and charisma."

"But of course, milady, of course. A knight in shining armor is always dazzled by the beauty of the damsels that surround him, even when said damsels _do_ unseat him from his noble steed."

I had been spending so much time with Theo lately. That was probably due to the fact that Tommy and Bart had to remain in hiding, and all my ex-friends scowled when I walked into the room… but to some level, I was ok with that now. It meant that I didn't have to divide my attention, and I could focus solely on Theo, just as he could focus solely on me. It was kinda nice.

Watching him pick himself up, his back covered in pieces of my lawn, I had to smile. There was just _something_ about Theo… something so friendly, and amiable, that you couldn't help but adore him. At the beginning of the year, I had gotten such a crush on him because of his looks (you gotta admit, he was HANDSOME) and because of fond memories I had had from years before. Sure, I had seen that he was nice, and I knew everyone thought highly of him, but I didn't know the _real_ Theo.

Now, though, are situation had almost _forced_ us together. When I had walked in with him, that February afternoon, everyone in the class was shocked. I mean, "talking with Lisa" was the ultimate taboo in my class, and because Theo broke it, he was doomed to be ostracized by those very people he once felt so close to. I knew it hit him hard. I mean, for two years he had gotten along marvelously with these people. Then along came lil' old me, and I ruined it for him. I felt awful.

He had reassured me, though, that it wasn't my fault. He said, and I quote, "Thank you. If it hadn't been for you, I would have continued to see those people through my rose colored glasses, and I probably would have continued to be like them. That would have been pretty bad."

Privately, I would have agreed with him. Now that I was an outsider, I didn't have to struggle between being loyal to my friends and true to my morals. Now that I was an outsider, it was ok for me to sit back and judge them, as they judged me.

I was finally able to realize that they _were_ snobby, they _were_ elitist, and they really were _not_ compassionate towards less intelligent people. It was quite ironic; I'm sure that all their lives, they've been made fun of for being smart, as I know I have. So what do they do? They just hurt others in retaliation. Definitely not something I want to be part of.

But Theo… he was different. He took the time to understand me, and he was willing to change when he didn't like what he was becoming. I though guys like him only existed in crappy books and movies. He seemed almost too good to be true. It's like, I could be totally open with him, and he understood what I'm saying, and appreciated me.

Before I had had a crush. Now, however… I was completely infatuated.

I was also completely confused. (Ugh, listen to me. I sound like the heroine of one of those aforementioned crappy books. Ah, life.) Theo and I had been spending so much time together, and yet our relationship seemed purely _platonic_. He had never said anything to me to make me thing that maybe_, just maybe_, he saw me as more than just a friend.

Didn't he get it? I had had friends… and look how that had turned out. I wanted something MORE. I wanted something special…

I guess I gazed at him too long, because he started waving a hand in front of my face, and kept saying, "Earth to Lisa!"

I snapped out of my daydream, and stuck my tongue out at him. "Can't a girl have some time to think?" I asked.

"Nah, not on a beautiful day like this. Don't ruin it by thinking deep thoughts… just _be_ in the moment. Let the experiences just _flow_ through you, like water though a bed of seaweed…"

I stared at him. "Ok, ok. Where are you hiding the joint?"

He flung his arms out, and began spinning. "I _am_ high, my dear Lisa. I'm high on LIIIIIIIIFE!"

Seriously, how could anyone not love this guy?

"Spin with me!" he sang, dancing in circles around my backyard. He took my hands, and we began spinning in giant circles, around and around until everything was just a giant, colorful blur. I felt like my brain was spinning off down some great vortex, and I think that for a little while at least, I _did_ stop thinking. I was just… in the moment. In the sunshine, and the warmth, and the color and the sounds.

Eventually we stopped spinning, but I can't say the same for my vision. I staggered around for a bit, trying to keep my balance. The downward pull of gravity (or was it sideways? The ground kept moving back and forth!) was too great, and of course I fell… right on top of Theo, who had fallen moments before.

Ah, to be sitting in the lap of the guy I was thoroughly enamored with. So, of course, I did what any sensible girl would do. I jumped up, turned beet red, and yelped, "Sorry, sorry! Did I crush you?"

"Nothing but my free spirits," he replied somewhat enigmatically. "That, and my masculine pride."

Wait… was he saying what I _thought_ he was saying?

"I mean," he continued, "any guy that can be crushed by a thin girl is pretty pathetic… and you really don't consider me pathetic, do you? I mean, look at these bulging biceps!" He flexed, and I laughed… while at the same time, feeling a bit disappointed. I guess he was thinking along different lines than I was. I mean, most guys would feel a bit insulted if a girl jumped out of their laps… but I guess this was another instance of how Theo was not like most guys.

"No, you're not weak," I agreed, "and I'm definitely not thin."

"Oh, all girls say that," he scoffed.

I thought back to my brief, but painful, stint with anorexia when I was younger. "I can't help it," I said. "I've been conditioned by the media to view myself as imperfect because I'm not painfully thin. It's an ingrained belief, and as much as I would choose to deny it, I know I'm fat."

He sat quietly for a moment, then burst out, "Of course, you're right! I mean, look at you… gobs and rolls of fat hanging off you! We need to go on a walk, so you can exercise it off, and so we can enjoy the beautiful day."

As convoluted as his logic was (though I knew he was just playing) I found myself saying, "Oh yeah, a walk would be great. Hey, you wanna go down to the botanical garden? All the flowers are just beginning to grow. It'd be really nice."

"Sure, sounds cool. I've never been there, but there's a first time for everything, right? Just let me call my mom, and tell her that I'll be home late." With that, he ran inside to use my phone, and I sat complacently in the hammock, staring at feathery wisps as they floated through the patches of sunlight.

"Hey, Lis," said a voice quietly, from the other side of the fence. I looked up and saw Tommy's head, pushing through the wild bushes that had grown quite high over the years.

"Tommy," I hissed, "you know you aren't supposed to come out of the house during the day! What if someone sees you?"

"Ah, c'mon, Lis, it's too nice a day out to stay cooped inside. Besides, I'm going right back in. I just wanted to know if you wanted to play video games. Bart and I are about ready to start a Supreme Crush Brothers tournament, and we could use a third player…"

I made a face at him. "You know I always lose against you guys. And besides, I can't. I'm going for a walk with Theo."

I could swear Tommy's expression darkened. "Oh…well, have fun, I guess. Drop by later… if you're not too busy," he added sullenly, and stalked back into his house. I head him slam the cellar door.

I stood there, marveling at this odd behavior. It seemed that nowadays, whenever I mentioned Theo, it always put Tommy in a sour mood. I had to wonder – I always felt that Tommy was more of a brother to me than anything, but did he feel the same about me? Or was there something more? Was he… _jealous_… of Theo? Damn, this made everything so much more complicated! I loved Tommy as a _friend_, and I thought that anything more wouldn't turn out well in the end.

I looked around my backyard, at the simple patio, and the swing set, and the two trees that held up the hammock and shaded it in even the harshest of sunlight. I thought back to all the times Tommy and I had sat on my patio, jamming on our assorted instruments (my forte was the saxophone, while he was a better violin player than his brother would ever be). I thought back to all those late night meetings where we would sit on the swings and just spill our problems and feelings (a trait rare for any guy nowadays). I even thought back to that day a week before school started when Tommy shocked me with the news that he was moving away. We were so comfortable with one another. Was it even _possible_ that he had feelings for me?

I must come back to this later, I mentally cataloged.

"Well, my dad's out of town, my mom's playing bridge tonight with her book club, and I think my little brother's at some sleepover. Basically, I have all the time in the world," Theo announced, returning to the back yard.

"Great," I replied, smiling a little too tensely I guess, because I saw his brow furrow.

"What's up? You look unhappy."

"No, no," I replied, "I've just been thinking… I know, I know, it's bad to think too much on a beautiful day. I'm starting to understand why."

"Well… that's the spirit!" he said, smiling that charming 100-watt smile. "Now… ONWARD, to the botanical garden!" he yelled, grabbing my arm and dragging me away.

Eventually he calmed down, and soon we were strolling down the sidewalk, walking the couple of miles downtown. On the way we talked. I don't remember what about, exactly, but I really don't think all conversations have to be groundbreaking events. Sometimes it's just nice to chat.

At one point, he said to me, "Oh, this is great! I mean, I don't think most girls would be willing to walk two miles downtown, when we could take a bus and save a lot of time and effort. I don't think most girls would understand the joys of taking a walk, and stopping to smell the flowers along the way." His eyes glazed over, and he became lost in thought, which was just fine with me.

I was a bit embarrassed to correct his mistaken high regard for my personality. If truth be told, I was probably just as lazy as those other girls, and though I did like fresh air and sunshine every now and then, a lot of times sloth won over me. However, after The Incident with bus 22A that nearly got Homer killed (and did give him a nice concussion!), I had had some sort of unreasonable dislike, bordering on fear, of the four wheeled monstrosities.

I smiled. Homer had called a few days before, saying that he would be returning home soon, and that he had a surprise for me. I had quite a surprise for him too; he still knew nothing of Bart's whereabouts, and I think that he would be pleased to learn that Bart had "beat the system".

We eventually reached the Springfield Botanical Gardens, which had both an indoor and outdoor area. The indoor plants, encased in a large glass building, were exotic plants that were in bloom year round. Sometimes I would walk up to the side of the building, and try to peer in through the condensation and steam on the glass. I would have loved to see the flowers and plants up close, because I'm sure they were stunning, but I was highly allergic to many types of flowers and didn't really want to get red-eyed and itchy over some pretty plants.

I was about to explain this to Theo, but he beat me to it. "Heh, Lisa, maybe I should have mentioned this before we got here, but I'm kinda allergic to anything with pollen…"

I grinned. "Yeah, me too. I can't even walk around the outside garden during the summertime, but it's still early in the year, and all the plants are just starting to grow. It's really pretty to walk around the paths." I headed towards one of my favorites: a path lined with ferns, mosses, and flowers that led to a stunning rock garden surrounding a tranquil pond.

I knelt down beside a small group of green shoots, which looked to have started growing in the past few days. "Oh, they're so beautiful," I gushed, looking down at the small plants fondly.

Theo bent down beside me. "Ah… they're tulips," he said, unimpressed by the small shoots.

"But don't you see?" I asked, looking up at him wide-eyed. "One day, they'll be beautiful, vivid flowers… but right now, they're simple green plants, just starting out life, so full of potential and eagerness to grow. Yes, some will die from lack of water, or nutrients, or sunlight, but the ones that do survive will blossom, and they'll be admired by everyone for their stunning red and yellow petals. And to think, they started life so simply, so plainly…but in their own way so elegantly." I sighed, and said, "Great, I'm spouting poetry, and deep metaphorical crap."

"No, no" he interrupted quietly, "I get what you're saying. That's… that's really beautiful."

Awkward silence. How was I expected to answer that?

"Well… thanks," I said, jumping up and avoiding eye contact. Instead, I walked down the path (a little too quickly, I think) and shouted behind me, "C'mon, the pond isn't that much farther ahead."

I waited up for him, and managed to regain my composure. Sure, what he had said was really just something nice, and nothing more. Still… it was almost as if he said _I_ was beautiful. Haha, I think I was close to swooning, but I pushed that out of my head. _Yeah… the Sistine Chapel is beautiful, but no one ever said Michelangelo was a particularly attractive guy._

We walked together towards the pond, and finally emerged in the open space that had a few stone benches surrounding a bed of round shining rocks, with a few bonsai trees here and there. We walked slowly around the rock garden, admiring the simple elegance of the artistry, but our true goal was the pond.

It was a medium-sized pond, abounding with the usual water vegetation; lily pads, cattails, rocks covered in dark green algae, and other plants. Even though it was early in the season, dragonflies buzzed around, reflecting the sunlight off their brilliantly iridescent bodies. Other bugs – pond skimmers, water beetles – swam lazily around. Even a family of ducks, the chicks nothing but small fuzzy yellow balls, were drifting around, quacking happily.

Theo and I sat on one of the stone benches for quite a while, watching the amazing display of life bathed in the orange-red light reflecting off the gently rippling water. Ah… sitting next to my crush, on the perfect day, in the perfect place, at sunset… it all felt too good to be real. It was great hanging out with Tommy… but it was perfect being with Theo.

But of course, whoever was in charge up there loved to make it rain on my parade… literally. One minute the sun was out, shining brightly, and the next it was occluded by a large bank of dark grey clouds. It took only a few moments for the rain to begin to fall, and though it wasn't falling that hard, it served to completely ruin the rest of the afternoon.

"You want my sweat shirt?" Theo asked me, as we got up and began to speed out of the garden.

"Oh no, I'm fine," I replied, brushing my dripping blue hair out of my eyes. "I meant to go for a swim sometime soon…"

He laughed, and we jogged towards the glass awning that stood above the doors to the inside of the garden. Taking shelter from the rain, we sat against the glass pillars and watched as the rain got steadily heavier.

"Well, this is a perfect ending to the day," I muttered, wringing out my shirt. I was soooo glad I was wearing a black shirt. Anything else, like white, would have been downright embarrassing. "And how are we supposed to get home? I don't really wanna walk two miles in the pouring rain."

"We'll take a bus," he said nonchalantly, and my blood ran cold. I wasn't kidding when I said I hated buses. I sighed, and he looked over at me quizzically. "I hate buses," I explained. "They never take me where I wanna go, and I always seem to end up in the scary part of town." Ok, this had happened once, but I didn't want to take any more chances.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you get home. I _told_ you I'd be your knight in shining armor," he said reassuringly, then promptly turned red.

"My white knight," I murmured, and turned my head to face him. I met with his soft gaze, and my heart started hammering in my chest.

No, we didn't kiss. That only happens in cheesy movies, not real life. Sure, I had a crush on him, but that was no reason to leap on him and snog. We definitely weren't at that level yet, and though I felt strongly towards him, I had no clue what his feelings were towards me.

I got a good idea, though, when he took my hand in his, and I felt his fingers intertwine in mind. It was a simple gesture of affection, and yet I don't think I could have been more thrilled. Now I knew. I knew for sure.

He liked me back.

The rain wasn't lessening, so eventually we decided to run to the nearest bus stop. We waited until we saw the bright headlights of the bus as they beamed through the driving rain, and then we ran like mad, almost missing the damn thing entirely. I don't think the bus driver was thrilled at having to wait for us to sprint on, because she gave us a dirty look as we dropped our money into the fare machine.

The bus was dingy, the people were sketchy looking, and the bus driver was sour, but it was all worth it to be able to sit next to Theo on the ride home. The day _had_ been rather long and exciting, and I ended up leaning on Theo's shoulder, my face resting on his slightly damp but very warm sleeve. I drifted off to sleep, lulled by the motions of the bus, so I might just have been dreaming that he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me tightly. It might have been my imagination when he rested his head on top of mine.

But when I woke up the next morning in my own bed, wrapped in his sweatshirt, I had all the tangible evidence I needed to know how much he cared for me.

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O


	17. The Corvid Quadrille

Originally Posted: August 16, 2005

Mwahahaha… everyone thought I was dead, but you should know by now that the crypt cannot hold me! I have returned from beyond the grave with the sole purpose of delivering to you, the faithful reader, the next chapter of **Spinning for Hours.** But seriously, it's been a loooong time since I last updated, and I'm sorry for that. I was so scared of writing this chapter badly, and screwing up the whole story, that I intimidated myself into being lazy and not trying. But I think this is a pretty good chapter (and at 9,600+ words, my longest by FAR). And you can bet that it was a BEAST to write. At points it gets a little description-heavy, but overall I'm pleased… it turned out better than I was expecting.

I recently got into an argument with a bunch of authors who feel that basic courtesy is a thing of the past. I wholly disagree with them, so I'd just like to make it clear that I appreciate each and every review I receive, and if you write me a long and detailed review, and leave your email address, I will most definitely reply to you. After all, it's only polite, isn't it? So **thank you** to everyone who reviewed.

I must give special thanks to Lewis Carroll and his wonderful "Lobster Quadrille," the insane inspiration for this chapter.

**-**

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**Spinning for Hours**

**-O-**

by Sir Mocha

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**-**

**Chapter 17: The Corvid Quadrille**

"See how easily the lobsters and the turtles all advance. They are waiting by the number… won't you come and join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you join the dance?"

I opened my eyes wearily, staring up at the dark ceiling. My alarm clock, that cheerful buzzing box of happiness (note my sarcasm), had woken me from my bizarre dream of dancing crustaceans and reptiles. Lazily, I reached over and hit the snooze alarm, intending to get ten more minutes of sleep before having to get up and get dressed.

The weekend had gone by in a flash of color and lovely weather. The storm Friday night had abated, and by morning the grass was shining in the gentle sunlight, a small testimony to the driving rain the previous night. By the afternoon, the rain had evaporated, and the weekend was gorgeous and pleasantly cool.

Despite that, I hadn't gotten the chance to talk to Theo, to thank him for getting me home that night. I guess we were just busy… or rather, not busy, but preoccupied. I would know; I woke up at 10 (which was unusually late for me) and didn't get out of bed for a half-hour. Then I spent the rest of the morning watching my lame Saturday-morning cartoons (I must confess my weakness for the charming little things. I may have been five years too old – and the wrong gender – but I just couldn't live without them), eating Soy Crunchies, and just lying around.

As soon as afternoon rolled around, I wandered over to Tommy's house and finally participated in that Supreme Crush Brothers tournament they had been trying to entice me into. I felt a bit guilty; lately, I had been neglecting my brother and best friend more than I should have – in light of my developing relationship with Theo – so I figured that spending some time with them would be good. I was pleasantly surprised to see how well they had been bonding. (I guess, being two natural hellions, they had some things in common.) Their growing friendship was quite evident – in the way they teamed up to crush my little on-screen character.

I had gone out to get a pizza, and then had gone back to Tommy's house, where the three of us shared slices of Veggie Dream (on my insistence) pizza while Bart regaled us with amusing Juvie stories. At about 10, I had gone back home, and had fallen asleep readily, then woke up again in eight hours to do my morning yoga routine with Tommy, who had ventured out of the house to enjoy the crisp clear morning. Shortly after, we had returned inside to have one of our special jazz sessions, which lasted for quite some time. Then add in homework, random goofing off, and general lazing, and before I knew it it was time to go to bed, in anticipation of school the next day.

My alarm clock buzzed again, signaling me to get my sluggish self up or risk missing the bus. I sighed, and reluctantly levered myself off my comfy mattress, looking forward to another monotonous Monday morning…

**-O-**

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" I exclaimed loudly, while Theo looked on amused.

I stood before a gaudy poster depicting a stuffy woman in a heavy brocade dress. The garish letter underneath read '**The Corvid Quadrille**', with the subtitle 'Upholding fine Corvid traditions of elegance and refinement.'

"What is this?" I asked bemused. "Some sort of costume ball?"

"You could say that," replied Theo. "It's the annual formal ball of the Corvids. Everyone dresses up in period costume, dances _quadrilles_ and _cotillions_, and stands around eating tiny little soy dogs off ornate silver trays. It's a socialite party," he clarified, seeing my blank look.

I must have made an interesting face or something, because he burst out laughing. "It's not THAT bad! It was kind of fun last year…"

I raised an eyebrow. "I spend my time in basement jazz holes, playing blues with beatniks and artists. Maybe when I was EIGHT I enjoyed dressing up and prancing around on a dance floor, but I haven't danced in AGES, and certainly not eighteenth-century French ballroom dances!"

He smiled and said, "It's really not that hard… let me show you…" With that, he grabbed me around the waist with one arm and swept my other hand up to hold his at about shoulder level. He then proceeded to swing me around… or would have, had I not tripped over my own foot and sent us both crashing inelegantly to the ground.

"Gah…" I choked, "you're smooshing my legs. Can you get off?"

"Serves you right," he muttered, and… was he blushing? I guess lying on top of a girl can do that to you. I had to admit… it was rather _interesting_ to be pinned to the ground by the guy I had a crush on, whether it was intentional or not. Fortunately, with my glowing yellow complexion, I can usually mask my supreme embarrassment.

He got up rather quickly, then offered a hand to help me up. I took it, and pulled myself to my feet. Then, as we both dusted off from our ungainly trip to the dirty floor, a very awkward silence ensued. I was determined not to look at him, because complexion or not, my face was like an open book and I didn't want to give him insight to how I was feeling.

I coughed, an obvious ploy to break the silence, then said, "So, about this whole Quadrille thing… I don't think I'm going to risk showing my face."

I glanced over at him in time to see him frown gently. "Actually, according to this poster… attendance is mandatory."

"Are you KIDDING?" I yelped, wheeling around to stare furiously at the poster. "You saw how graceful I am on my feet! They hate me already, so how are they going to feel when I trip and throw everyone else off? I've…. I almost r-ruined the Knowledge Bowl… now I'm going to be responsible for destroying yet ANOTHER stupid ceremony?" I felt heat rise in my face again, though this time it was from rising anger, not embarrassment. "They don't want me there anyway!"

"Well…." he said hesitantly, "_I_ would like it if you went… I wouldn't mind dancing with you."

"Yeah, if you enjoy dancing horizontally," I muttered.

Oops. He he…

This time, it was he who coughed. "Um… well, this is an important event and all for the Corvids. We usually spend class time preparing costumes, and learning dances, and –"

I laughed derisively. "Oh, so we waste class time we could be using LEARNING in order to prepare for a costume party! It's WONDERFUL how the Corvids have their priorities so straight!" I could feel the beginning of a rant coming on. "Here were are, in a fancy velvet and gilt classroom, using extravagant resources while the rest of the school has to stare at bare light bulbs and cracked chalkboards. They CLAIM we deserve it because we're smart, and nurturing and developing our gifts, and yet we waste time on COSTUME BALLS? It's not right… it's not fair…"

I stopped abruptly, my mind racing. Theo was watching me warily, aware that I was thinking very hard and formulating something monumental. He hesitated for a second before saying quietly, "What are you up to?"

"I've got it!" I said quietly, excitedly. "I've got the PERFECT way to knock those stupid Corvids off their high-horses!" Quickly I launched into a rough outline of my master plan, making it up as I went along… and as I talked, Theo's eyes got wider and wider.

"Are you CRAZY?" he shouted, looking around to see if anyone else might have heard me. "You can't DO that! Do you know how much trouble you'd be in if you were caught?"

"It's not like everyone is particularly thrilled with me right now," I remarked dryly.

"I'm not talking about our CLASS, Lisa! I'm talking about the ramifications of getting an entire SOCIETY pissed at you. A SOCIETY, with unlimited POWER and INFLUENCE! This isn't just bad grades… this could actually endanger your PERSONAL SAFETY!" He had a slightly wild look to his eyes, as if he was afraid of incurring the society's wrath by merely bringing up the topic.

"You know what? I don't really CARE," I spat back. "I've been in worse situations before. I don't really care about offending a bunch of snobs."

Theo was silent. He had a pleading look in his eyes, as if asking me to reconsider. I wanted to – it touched me that he was so concerned about my well being – but this was a matter of upholding my principles. I had never felt completely comfortable with the Corvids, and it wasn't right to insult and condemn them while doing nothing about it. Passive resistance would get me nowhere; they had already proven that by ignoring me for the past month.

No, it was time to take action.

"Don't worry about me, Theo," I said calmly. "I know what I'm doing."

"Well, just the same, I think it'd be better if I helped you out."

I looked up abruptly. "What? NO! If they catch you, they'll work their 'unspeakable evils' on you too! Look, it's my idea. I can pull it off by myself; you don't need to get involved. Knowing I have your theoretical support is enough for me."

"Since you're so confident that you can pull it off, and since you're so unafraid of the consequences, it shouldn't be a problem whether or not I tag along, should it?" he asked slyly.

Hm. Well, he had me there. "You can help if you want," I conceded, "and help would be appreciated, of course. It's just… I don't want anything bad to happen to you because of my stupidity."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," he replied, seemingly confident.

Hah.

I grimaced. "I guess this means I have to go to that stupid Quadrille, doesn't it?"

He grinned. "Well, Miss Conspirator, according to your own plans it will be the best time for the heist."

"I know, I know…"

While everyone was dancing, it would be the perfect opportunity to sneak away, and get my hands on their precious Tome of the Brethryn Corvyde.

**-O-**

"And… ONE, two, three, four, five, six, ONE, two, three, four, five, six…"

I rolled my eyes as, for the umpteenth time today, I spun too early in the wrong direction. As a veteran of Lil' Vicki Valentine's School of Dance, I thought I knew about slave-driving dance teachers… but Miss Forchette took the cake.

And speaking of the red-haired dance teacher, she was currently striding towards me with an angry look on her thin face. "Lisa! What have I TOLD you so many times before? LEFT three, UP three, BACK two, RIGHT three… then a spin on the LAST beat! How many times will it take to force this into your head?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" I grumbled, not in the best mood. We had been working on this particular dance – the title _quadrille _– for the past TWO HOURS, and I remained the ONLY girl unable to do it. Was I really THAT bad at dancing?

"Fine. If Lisa could PLEASE get it right this time, we may continue on to the next set. And… ONE, two, three…"

I glanced in front of me at Amber, who was breezing thought the dance as if it was nothing. Looking at her freckles and glasses, I would never have guessed that she would be a choreographic prodigy. _Appearances can be deceiving_, I thought as I desperately tried to mimic her every movement.

Perhaps this emulative style of dancing was more successful, because I actually managed to get thought the tricky part without screwing up (well, without screwing up enough to merit the reporach of Miss Forchette).

I breathed a sigh of relief as she announced a fifteen-minute break. I immediately hobbled away from the area and headed towards Theo's desk. He sat there, calm and collected, his sandy-brown hair still arranged neatly on his head and his thin glasses set evenly and purposefully on his face. I'm sure I looked frightful at this moment; my blue-blonde hair, which I had tied up so neatly before the beginning of the lesson, was coming down in sporadic clumps, and I think I was developing a bruise on my cheek after running into someone's unluckily placed elbow.

"How do you MANAGE this?" I asked incredulously, flopping down in my chair beside him.

"Practice, my dear Lisa, and experience. Oh, and of course an innate talent for artistic motion."

I (very immaturely) stuck out my tongue at him. "Well, at least I won't have to do much dancing that night. It's mandatory to go, but Finch never said for how LONG we had to be there. I figure I'll dance the stupid _quadrille_ –" I lowered my voice significantly at the next part "– then run out, grab the Tome, and go home."

He too lowered his voice, and looked around conspiratorially. "You never actually told me WHAT you're going to do with the Tome once you have it. Are you gonna burn it or something?"

"A book that rare? I could always make a bundle by selling it online or something." He didn't smile, and my voice faltered a bit. "I-I don't know what I'll do with it. I haven't thought that far ahead."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if asking for patience from a higher power. "Lisa, if you're going to attempt this crazy scheme, you're going to need to PLAN IT OUT a little better. You think it'll be so easy, but I'm sure there's security around it, and protective measures that will be able to catch anyone who DOES get it. If you don't plan it out, you're going to be caught… and whether you believe it or not, I think you'd be in SERIOUS trouble."

I looked up at his pleading eyes, and felt my resolve crumble. Was I really doing the right thing? Sure, they had insulted me… sure, they were snobs… but was petty theft really going to make me feel better, or would it just make everything worse? And it wasn't just me who would get in trouble; Theo would get busted as well, punished for a crime he was against in the first place. Was it right to run the risk of subjecting him to that? I couldn't… it wouldn't be right…

"Well Lisa, you'd be surprised at the laws that do not apply to you in this room."

"I think it's about time that we kick those Center snobs off their high-horses, and show that knowledge can't be bought, but has to be earned! We'll show them just how competent an average public school really is!"

"…We're Corvids. You'll find we have a lot of special privileges in this school."

But it wasn't right the way my fellow Corvids acted either. There would _never_ be improvement, _never_ a step towards equality if someone didn't stand up against the inherent favoritism. It wasn't just my morals I was standing up for; it was an improvement in society! No sweeping changes would ever take place if the little people didn't do the little things to make it better. And even if I got in trouble… even if Theo got in trouble… we might well go down in history as noble martyrs to the cause of equality and justice around the world.

If you haven't guessed by now, I tend to get a bit overdramatic. In this case, I think I was casting around for an excuse – ANY excuse – which would make what I was about to do right. I wanted so desperately to believe that what I was doing would have widespread benefits… that I wasn't just acting petty and vengeful for selfish reasons. That I wasn't taking drastic actions for less-than-drastic measures.

"BIEN! Your fifteen minutes are up! It is time to learn the next section of the Quadrille!"

I groaned aloud, while Theo chuckled at my frustration. "Don't worry, you're smart. You'll get it soon enough."

"Screw you," I said rudely, which only made him laugh more.

But as I was dancing (or attempting to dance), I couldn't get myself to concentrate fully on learning the steps. I was reprimanded many times for it, of course… but my mind was focused on other things. On what Theo had just said.

"If you don't plan it out, you're going to be caught…"

He was right, of course, as usual. For the past few days, I hadn't really focused on the plan – I was still mentally preparing for perpetrating the crime, and hadn't had time to figure out the logistics. But he was right – it would take careful timing, and I would need plans to fall back on in case of (probable) failure, and I would have to take into account any accidents I might have. I needed to plan, and I needed to KNOW the plan so the night would go perfectly. There was still a week and a half to go, but with school, and Bart/Tommy time, and homework (yes, because we were wasting our time in school we had MORE homework than usual), and Theo time, I didn't have that long to figure out what I was going to do.

That night, after rubbing my feet to ease the sore muscles that had suffered from the day's torture, I pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. Then I sat there for half an hour, wasting time while no sudden inspiration came to mind.

I thought about various harebrained schemes I had partaken in over the years. Sneaking around, thwarting cops and criminals alike, escaping from an abandoned amusement park full of killer robots (though I doubted that would be much use in this situation; the Corvids were still masquerading as humans). I took a nice little trip down memory lane, and after a while my recollections began to awaken the plotting and scheming part of my brain.

Finally, I set to work formulating my master plan. Having to get up various times to consult reference sources (the Internet for a map of the school, the encyclopedia for the mechanics behind various types of locks), I sat back after a while with a rocky and dubious, but feasible, plan before me.

**-O-**

"Ow. Ow. OW!"

"Well, if you would just HOLD still you wouldn't keep getting your hair caught in your zipper."

After two weeks of dancing, etiquette, and costume fittings, Miss Forchette and I were not the best of friends. I think she was PURPOSELY catching my hair in the zipper as she yanked it up… and it wasn't even my FAULT, because it had been SHE who had taken my hair down out of its typical ponytail.

"THERE!" she barked, yanking a few final blue-yellow strands out of my head. "And you really MUST do something with your hair… you can't just leave it hanging ratty and multicolored from your head, can you?"

I glared at her, not bothering to hide my scorn. "I happen to LIKE my hair, and I think I'll leave it as is. Besides, I don't think I would take fashion tips from YOU, when it was YOU who made this dress in the first place!"

She glared back with enough fury to burn a hole though me, pounds of brocade and all. "Just get OVER THERE with the others who are ready!" As I turned to walk away, I could hear her muttering angrily behind me… something about yellow-and-blue demons…

I suppose I had been a bit mean. Contrary to what I had said, I (the ubiquitous tomboy) thought the dress was beautiful. It was a bit more ornate than I would have liked, and the voluminous petticoats were a bother, but the soft grey embroidered material caught the light just right, and was a simple yet elegant balance to my wild-colored hair. Plus, I couldn't help noticing that the gentle color was a dead-ringer for the color of Theo's eyes…

He walked up to me then, looking a bit stiff in his ornate costume of forest-green velvet. I smirked at him, and commented, "I don't think I've ever seen you in so many ruffles and lace."

"And you NEVER will again!" he finished, flushing adorably. Then he looked up, and glanced at me oddly. "Wow… I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down. It's so… exotic."

"I know!" I said, rolling my eyes. "I hope the blue grows in soon… it's really annoying that it can't make up its mind whether to be blue or blonde! I like uniqueness, of course," I said, reaching up to grab one lock and examine it critically, "but I'm thinking of, once the blue grows in a little longer, getting it cut and having it solid again." I felt like I was rambling, but I was afraid that if I stopped, there might be an uncomfortable silence. Theo was looking at me so oddly. "On the other hand, I don't know if I'm going to have to put up with it much longer… my m-mother was grey by the time she was nineteen, and my dad is almost completely bald. Huh, that's weird… you've never met him, have you?"

"Uh uh," he said, still looking at me uncomfortably. I was just about ready to do the same (and really, staring at him in that gorgeous outfit would be no problem…) when Mrs. Finch said, "Ok, find your partner and form lines here and here…

As we ran through out dress rehearsal (stopping often as someone would trip over one of the many long floor-length skirts), I had a whispered conversation with Theo. Surprisingly enough, my two weeks of agonizing torture under the tutelage of Miss Forchette had come to fruition, and I was able to remember the steps to the (simplest) dances. I would never be a dancer – alas! – but by now, the motions had become mechanical enough to allow me to think of other things.

"I picked up some rope from the janitor's closet," I whispered to Theo as we came together for some steps and a twirl.

"You can climb rope?" he asked me, leading me in a circle.

"Eh, not exactly." I paused for a few complicated steps. "But I thought I could knot them together and make a rope ladder."

We moved a few steps to the left, and he said, "You're going to climb a ladder in fifty pounds of ballroom dress?"

We spun again, and I replied, "Hey, I went to military school. They made us do all sorts of arduous and pointless tasks there. If I can slog though the mud with a twenty pound pack… if I can pull myself across a hundred feet of rope over a patch of thorny brambles… if I can run the damned obstacle course and scale a brick wall, then I can climb a simple rope ladder while wearing a stupid gown."

He grinned, and pulled me closer for a tight spin. I relished in the brief contact… and judging from the slight tinge of redness on his face, he did too. "Well, I believe you. I'm just saying, it would be pretty bad to be stuck in that room with no way to escape."

I smirked evilly. "Well, if worse comes to worse, I can always ditch the dress and go commando."

The song ended, and as I curtsied I watched as he bowed low, hiding his beet-red face.

**-O-**

Even though I was against the squander and extravagance the Corvids employed when designing their classrooms, I had to admit that the gilt, elegant entrance hall was a perfect setting for the ball. The softly glowing crystal chandeliers and stately red carpet beautifully emphasized the swirl of colors of students in their period costume. Our class was on the small side, so in order to create a more festive and rich atmosphere, Mrs. Finch had deigned to invite the other magnet class. This was one of the rare times when B Class, the Corvids, and A Class, the regular magnet program, came together for social interaction. The grand doors of the classrooms on either side of the hall were closed, but light leaked from around their edges. We had used the classrooms as dressing rooms earlier in the night. The band and the dancing, as well as the refreshment tables, were located in the main hall.

This made my plan all the more difficult. If, as Theo feared, the escape plan failed, we would be caught exiting into the main hall. I had checked, and double-checked, the plan and was confident that we could pull it off. Still, it would have been more of a relief to have the hall a bit more deserted.

Theo and I stood there, tumblers of punch clasped nervously in our hands. Having successfully completed the _quadrille_ (take that, Miss Forchette!), it would soon be time to put my plan into action.

"Theo…" I started, and was surprised by the begging tone my voice had taken, "you know you don't have to go…"

"You're depending on me," he replied anxiously. "You have the plan all set, and ready to go."

"Well, I don't _need _you… I could always adapt it –"

"– As you go along, I know, I know. That seems like a REALLY bad idea… I'm going with you, whether you want it or not."

I smiled at him gratefully, and he returned my smile with a small, nervous, but tender smile of his own.

I heard the band strike up a new, lively tune, and said, "Ok, they're just about to start the _allemande_, which everyone loves. While they're distracted, we –"

"I know, I know, we sneak into the classrooms, grab our stuff, then smuggle it out of the hall."

"Yes," I said. "Good luck, don't get caught." Then I did something neither of us suspected – I gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. He stood, shocked, for a moment, and I feared I had broken his concentration. But I guess my spontaneous action gave him new resolve, because he strode confidently to the door… and I glimpsed a wide smile across his face.

I counted to thirty, then walked off towards the opposite side of the hall. We wanted to stagger our actions, to prevent people from noticing. I approached the grand classroom doors, paused a moment, then opened it as quietly and as little as I could. I squeezed myself through, into the deserted classroom, and shut the door quickly behind me.

It was a good thing our dresses were so bulky, because no one had found it suspicious when I walked into the classroom earlier with a huge bag. It _did_ hold my ponderous costume, but it also held a number of useful items to successfully carry out the plan tonight. The first thing I did was exchange my fancy slippers for sneakers. The dress would have to stay on – an attempt at camouflage – but I wanted sneakers for all the sneaking we were about to do. (They would stay hidden under my dress anyway.)

The trickiest part would be getting from the classrooms to the main doors without getting stopped. If either Theo or I was stopped by a teacher or student, the plan was to say that I had an extremely bad stomach ache, and Theo was going to walk me home to make sure I was ok. I wasn't the world's best actress, and I didn't know if I could convincingly pull off pain and nausea, so it would be best if we weren't caught.

The _allemande_ was still going strong, and I hoped everyone was sufficiently distracted. I slowly pushed open the door and slipped out into the main hall. Fifty feet away, I saw Theo standing awkwardly, his smaller, less obtrusive bag in hand. I hurried over, grabbed his arm, and veritably yanked him towards the entrance.

Unfortunately, a 5'3", red-haired obstacle blocked our way. Mrs. Finch stood watching the two of us, her eyes narrowed slightly. "Aren't you having fun?" she asked, a hint of a threatening tone in her voice.

I immediately doubled over, and wheezed, "I… I have a really bad stomach ache…" I leaned against Theo for support, while he petted my back gently.

"She hasn't been feeling well all weekend, Mrs. Finch," explained Theo, "and she decided to come tonight anyway. I tried to convince her to stay home, but she really wanted to come…"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Finch's eyes narrow even further. She knew as well as anyone that I had hated the idea of a mandatory costume ball. I ever-so-gently slammed my foot down on Theo's, making him wince but stop his foolish prattle.

If Finch saw my motion, she didn't reveal it. "Well, Lisa, if you're feeling poorly I'll call your father, and he can come pick you up…"

"Uh, her father isn't home," said Theo quickly. "He's away for a few months. I was going to walk Lisa home, you know, to make sure she's ok and all. I don't think it's a good idea for her to walk around, alone and sick, in the middle of the night."

"Indeed," said Finch coolly, and as I glanced up at her I saw her face, devoid of any expression. "Well, you have sound judgment Thelonious, and I trust you will get Lisa home safely." Her eyes darted down to my face, which I quickly tried to contort back into a pained expression. "I trust you'll feel better soon, Lisa, so you don't get too far behind in your schoolwork."

It may have been my imagination and paranoia, but I could have sworn that she glanced momentarily at my garment bag, in which I had stored all the supplies for the night's theft. If there was one person in this room who might figure out our plan, it was she. After all, she didn't become our teacher though being stupid. Indeed, there were times where she seemed to know stuff she could not have possibly known.

And with that, she turned to go back to the _allemande_, which was finally coming to an end. As soon as she was gone, Theo and I bolted for the exit. We threw open the wide double doors and dashed through, that strange computer voice bidding us "Have a nice day!" as we left.

"You don't think she suspected anything, do you?" Theo asked anxiously, while I caught my breath from lugging the heavy equipment.

"Are you kidding? She had suspicion written all over her face! But the Quadrille is still a few hours from being done, so she can't leave yet."

"Yeah, but that won't matter if we're caught _inside_, will it?"

I frowned. "Seriously, last chance to turn back."

He gave me an equally grim look. "Nope, I'm in too deep now. There's nothing to do but lay down my life to help you with your idiotic mission."

"And I expect no more," I replied cheerfully, picking up the bag and throwing it over my shoulder so I could walk with the huge weight.

Like the perfect gentleman, Theo tugged the bag from my grasp and threw it over his own shoulder. I beamed at him, and he said, "Well, in case we do meet anyone. It'd look strange for you to be carrying a huge sack when you supposedly have a killer stomach ache."

We trekked through the cavernous basement halls fairly quickly, and ascended the staircase to the main level of the school. A few more twisting halls took us to the main lobby, and the exit out to the parking lot. We quickly vacated the building, and headed over to one of the benches that adorned the curb. Here I took the garment bag from Theo, opened it up, and rummaged around until I found a sheaf of papers, which I spread out across the bench. We both knelt before it.

"I just want to go over this one more time," I said, "because once we start, we're going to have very little time to stop and talk along the way." I gestured to one of the papers, a floor plan for the basement of the school, with the Magnet classrooms highlighted in yellow. "Now, here are the two classrooms. Class A's room is being used by the guys as a changing room, but we don't need to mess with that one. Class B's, or the Corvid classroom, is being used by the girls for _their_ changing room. Since it would be pretty bad for YOU to be caught in there, that is my part of the mission." I pointed to a small door in the corner of the room. "This door leads to the supply room, and the room where Finch keeps the stupid Corvid costume as well as the Tome. I don't actually KNOW this for a fact – I've never been in there – but it's the only room on the plans unaccounted for, so it HAS to be the place the Tome is kept."

"Unless, of course, she put the Tome in an unexpected place so people like US would not guess to look there."

"Theo," I said, exasperated, "the Tome is hundreds of years old and the integral rule book for the society. She's not going to just put it out in plain view, where students could accidentally find it and destroy it. The supply room is the only room in the complex strictly off-limits to students. It has to be there." Before he could interject, as he had done so when we previously discussed the plan, I continued. "Now, the room is kept locked, but I happen to have a set of lock picks in my bag, and I've had extensive training on how to use them."

The sandy-haired boy looked at me quizzically, and I explained, "My brother taught me a thing or two… that is, before he went off to jail." I hoped Theo hadn't noticed my hesitation. Even though he was currently my closest friend, I still hadn't told him that Bart was hiding out next door. I didn't want to do ANYTHING that might jeopardize Bart's safety, even if it meant keeping secrets from my only confidant.

Theo nodded, accepting the explanation without question. It seems that Bart's infamy had spread around town, and even before he had left he had had rather a criminal reputation.

"Of course," I continued, "I want to spend as little time as possible in the classroom, because if someone walks in and finds me when I'm supposed to be home sick, that's going to raise a lot of unpleasant questions." I shifted my attention over to another piece of paper, this one detailing the first-floor plan. "But thanks to this discovery, I'll be able to avoid walking back through the main entrance."

This part of the plan was the part I was most proud of, because it had taken the most ingenuity to figure out. A long time ago, I had mentioned that I noticed how, despite being underground, the ceiling of the classroom seemed extremely high. Indeed, I was right; the top of the classroom actually stuck out from the ground, and was disguised as an all-purpose shed next to the soccer fields. I had investigated the towering shed a few days ago, and discovered that indeed, as soon as I picked open the cheap lock, I was faced with the wooden panels that constituted the ceiling of the classroom. It was easy enough to remove one, and I would be entering the classroom from forty feet up, climbing down a knotted rope with Theo giving me a belay from the ceiling… just in case.

"Once you've made sure I'm safely down, you'll have to pull up the ropes, just to make sure no one walks in and sees them. It may take me a few minutes to get the Tome, but you have to be ready to drop the ropes as soon as you see me leave the supply room. I'm going to have to get out pretty quickly."

Theo looked uneasy. "Remind me, again, why we didn't just do this some night when no one was around to catch us."

"The entire school is enabled with a high-security burglar alarm. As soon as I set foot in that classroom, the alarm would have gone off and system would have sent out a call to the cops. And plus, if the school is supposedly closed for the night then it would look VERY suspicious if anyone caught us wandering around out back, messing with the shed."

He nodded, and said, "And… remind me why you didn't just snatch the book earlier, stuff it in your bag, and leave in a more conventional way."

His questions were making me impatient, but I figured it was better to reassure him of the plan, than have him second-guessing it the entire time. "When you first walk into the Magnet rooms, there's a scanner that asks for your ID. I investigated the system – it's amazing the information you can find online – and read how it scans for suspicious or dangerous items whenever anyone passes under, as an added security measure. Considering the circumstances, I figured it wouldn't see rope and lock picks as suspicious items. God knows, this dress I'm wearing is covered in ornate cording and embroidery; the ropes could be pieces of it that fell off, or something. And lock picks can easily be mistaken for hairpins, which would make sense with all the complicated hairstyles.

"But I think, if I tried to walk out of there with a huge, archaic, valuable book, it would think something's up. I'm SURE Finch has the Tome flagged in some way to alert the scanner to it, if someone tried to take it. So it would have been a bad idea to try to get it out the main doors… but I'm sure no one considered that someone would try to get it out the ceiling."

"You've thought of everything, I guess," he responded. "So, now that you're sure your plan is foolproof…" I detected a hint of fear-based sarcasm coming from the sophomore, and I had to forgive him for that. Although it was MY plan, and although I had tried to consider it from all possible angles, I was still afraid that I was going to get caught, and Theo would get in trouble with me.

"Don't worry," I said, digging around in my bag for the length of thick rope, expertly knotted with Bart's help. I handed this to Theo, who promptly began untangling it, while I pulled out the backpack I would use to transport the heavy Tome, and stuffed in my lock picks and a roll of duct-tape. Once Theo was done with the rope, I cast around for a good tying-off place, and ended up securing the rope to what I hoped was a sturdy support pole a few feet from the entrance. Then I dug out another rope, thinner, and tied it around my waist. Theo would be holding this end, to make sure that if I fell I wouldn't go _splat_ on the classroom floor below. I handed him a pair of leather gloves to go along with it; rope burns can be very painful things.

"Well," I said, checking myself over one final time to make sure I had everything, "I guess there's no point in delaying the inevitable. The sooner I get this done with, the sooner I'll be safely back up and away with the Tome." I hesitated, then reached out both my arms to Theo, and after a moment's pause, he pulled me into a warm hug. I squeezed back, then let go, trying to muster up my courage.

"Ok," I said confidently, lowing the rope into the square opening. I paused to consider the sharp lip for a moment, hoping that the rope wouldn't rub and fray against the edge. I started fretting about this, and mentioned it to Theo… then realized that I was stalling, trying to avoid my task because I was afraid.

Even if you are afraid, you owe it to those snobs to do this. The insulted you and Theo… they insulted the rest of the school… they insulted your own FAMILY. If you let them get away with this – if you let them bully you and others – how will they ever get the punishment they deserve? But more importantly, how will YOU look at yourself in the mirror every day, knowing you betrayed your morals because you were a bit afraid? You have to do this thing, and you have to do it now.

Resolutely I walked over to the edge and grabbed the upraised wooden strip next to the opening. With my hands secure, I gently lowered myself over until I was dangling forty feet over the floor below. Hurriedly I moved my feet until they encountered the rope, and lowered them safely down onto one of the large knots. I then tentatively let go of the lip with one hand and grabbed one of the knots near my head. My other hand quickly joined it, and with the belay rope secure around my waist, I began to climb down.

There was, thankfully, nothing remarkable about the trip down. I had to hurry, in case someone walked into the room while I was still in midair and caught me. Once or twice one of my feet slipped, but I always managed to catch myself and make it safely down to the next knot. It was hard on my arms and upper body, and I wondered how I would have the strength to climb back UP the rope with the added weight of the Tome.

I was _extremely_ glad when my feet finally met the carpeted floor below. I jumped off the rope, and untied the line around my waist. I stared up at the hole in the ceiling, and gestured to Theo to pull up the ropes. He compiled, and not a moment too soon – I could hear talking coming directly from the opposite side of the door, and I watched as the handle turned ever so slowly, about to let another occupant into the room.

Without pause, I jumped behind one of the nearby desks. I watched as the rope zoomed upward and disappeared through the hole in the wooden ceiling. The door opened, and two girls in pink and yellow ball gowns flounced in. They spent a few minutes redoing their elaborate makeup, and I prayed that they wouldn't look up to see the gaping hole in the ceiling. But fortunately, they were utterly self-absorbed and bent on looking their best, and didn't spare a glance away from their mirrors.

After what seemed like AGES, they stashed their makeup and pranced back out of the room. Immediately I hurried over to the door, and pulled out my roll of duct tape. I wound tape around both handles, making the doors impenetrable, or so I hoped. But my makeshift lock would be suspicious if anyone tried to open the doors, so I decided that I really had to hurry.

I strode over to the small door in the corner, pulling my lock picks from my backpack. It was a moment's work to open the lock. It almost seemed TOO easy, and I wondered if there might be some sort of silent alarm on the door to trigger when someone walked into the room. Holding my breath, I turned the handle and gently pushed the door open.

The room inside was dark, but I flipped on a light switch in the corner and the small area was flooded with bright lights. I looked around at the storeroom no student had ever entered before. I was a little disappointed to find that it looked exactly like an ordinary storeroom… a few filing cabinets, a table with some junk on it, and some cardboard boxes along the walls. I looked around the room, wondering where Mrs. Finch could have hidden the Tome.

"You have got to be kidding," I muttered under my breath as my eyes found a filing cabinet with a drawer marked 'Tome of Brethryn Corvyde'. "It's too easy… it has to be a trap."

But I wasn't one to pass up the opportunity. I considered my situation; even if the drawer _was_ hooked to an alarm, and they knew someone was breaking in, it would take them a while to get through the duct tape on the strong doors. And if the book _was_ within, I could have it out, and up the ladder, and away from the school before they could catch me. If they made it so easy to find the Tome, then so be it.

I reached out one hand and grasped the metal handle to the drawer. As I assumed, it was locked… but that didn't stop me from getting in. As I praised Bart's tutelage for the umpteenth time that night, I looked at my assortment of picks before selecting one. Just like the storeroom door, I found that it took very little time for me to get into the drawer. I slid it open, almost drooling from anticipation.

The drawer was lined with cushioning and red velvet, and in the center lay the Tome. Thanking Buddha and Allah and Jesus and SpongeBob, and whatever deities happened to be listening, I slowly reached down and removed the sacred book from its resting place. When my actions triggered no audible alarm, I grinned and slipped the book into my backpack. It was time to high tail it out of the school.

I reemerged into the classroom, and could hear voices on the other side of the large doors. "Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I tried but the doors won't open, and the handles are stuck!" The doors bent inwards a bit, but the duct-tape held strong. I inhaled, realizing that it wouldn't hold forever, and looked up anxiously at the hole in the ceiling.

I was nearly met with a face-full of rope. I managed to dodge the heavy falling lines, and glared up at the ceiling while Theo looked back a bit sheepishly. He mouthed 'Sorry,' and I just shook my head and commenced tying the thin rope around my waist. Giving the door one more anxious glance, I grasped the knotted rope, and pulled myself on.

If I thought it was bad descending, I found that it was easy compared to going back up. My arms were shot from descending, and the Tome pulled on my back like an overlarge, cumbersome monkey. The going was slow, because I had to rest often to alleviate my burning muscles and lungs. While I hung there, precariously, over twenty-five feet of open air, I swore to myself that I would get in better shape before I tried any more covert operations.

Fifteen feet to go… ten feet… five feet… With an almighty lunge, my arm shot up to grab at the familiar wooden lip. My other arm followed it, and with help from my feet pushing against one of the knots, I was able to heave myself over the edge. I lay on the ground, nearly faint from exhaustion, legs still dangling over open air. I would have fallen into a daze – heck, I might have fallen ASLEEP – if Theo hadn't shaken me and convinced me to move. While I lay a few feet away, recovering from my ordeal, he hefted up the heavy ropes and replaced the wooden panel of the ceiling. By the time he was done with that, I had recovered enough to untie the knotted rope from the pole. He shoved everything into my bag, and threw the bag over his shoulder like some sort of teenage Santa Claus.

"I did it…" I whispered, still numb from the shock of successfully executing the plan. "I actually got the Tome!"

Theo looked at me with twinkling eyes. "I knew you would. If anyone could manage, I KNEW it would be you!"

I could feel the adrenaline coursing though my body, and I blame it for my actions next. Without a second thought, I turned to face Theo, wrapped my arms around the back of his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Our lips made contact, and the shock of it intensified my supercharged feeling. I won't say it was the best kiss I've ever had in my whole life – that was my first true kiss, so I had nothing to compare it to – but I know it felt damn good, and I think Theo agreed. After a moment's hesitation, he kissed back, dropping the ropes and wrapping his arms around me in return.

I'm sure it was only a few moments, but it felt like a lifetime before we finally broke the kiss. Still embracing each other, I grinned up at him, and he grinned back down at me. I think we were both at a loss for words, but the heated silence between us spoke more than we ever could have. It was an intense silence, but a comfortable one. Finally, after all these months… after all these YEARS (on my part, at least)… we were able to tell each other exactly what we felt.

It was wonderful.

But the euphoria couldn't last. Despite having the Tome, we weren't in the clear yet, and there was still a strong chance that we could get caught. I regretfully tore myself from Theo, coughed, and said, "As great as this is – and believe me, this is GREAT – we really should get going."

He shook his head, probably trying to clear the heady feeling I was experiencing so strongly. "Y-yea," he stuttered, and I had to avoid the temptation to smooch him again for being so CUTE. But the weight of the Tome pulled on the shoulder straps of my bag, and bit into my shoulders, reminding me of my current perilous state.

Unfortunately, good things are usually too good to be true. In this case, as I turned to head out of the shed, my feeling of fuzzy satisfaction and triumph disappeared instantly, replaced by cold hard panic and denial.

Mrs. Finch stood right outside the shed door, watching us intently. Though she was a diminutive woman, at that moment she radiated fierce power on every line of her face, and it's not unreasonable to say that I was more than a little afraid.

I was expecting her to yell, or hiss, but when she started talking I was thrown off by her casual tone. "So, you decided to take a little detour on your way home, Lisa?"

I knew we were in for it, so I didn't even try to feign illness. I merely stood my ground, looking back into her eyes resolutely.

"I have to give you credit for your methods," she continued. "I don't think we've ever had anyone try to break in though the roof before." She held out one hand. "I'd like to inform you that we have a lovely set of hidden fiber-optic cameras around the room. Your execution of your plan was nearly flawless, so I'll have to congratulate you for that too. Now kindly give me back the Tome."

I instinctively shook my head. If worse came to worse, I would relinquish the book, but my eyes darted around the shed and though the door, looking for a way out of this situation. I hadn't come so far – I hadn't practically KILLED myself on that rope – to just give in now.

"By all means, go ahead," said Mrs. Finch levelly. "You can run for it. I'm old and out of shape; I won't stop you. You can bolt away, into the night; you can have the Tome thrown off an overpass within the hour."

I eyed her. I knew it wouldn't be so simple… there HAD to be more.

"But I'm afraid the consequences of your actions would be somewhat severe. I'm not sure if you know it, but the Corvids are a very close-knit society. We look out for one another, and help one another. And if one of us is wronged, the perpetrator is faced with a society of powerful, intelligent, and very irate individuals.

"So you can go, steal the Tome and run. I won't even tell the police who it was that broke in and stole the Tome. But you might want to consider whether it's worth it. The Society knows your names. It knows where you live. And it will be more than eager to exact revenge upon you two. Politicians, mob bosses, business tycoons… they will use their wealth, influence, and resources to hunt you down. And you can be certain that the punishment they deliver to you will be most detrimental. You'd be lucky if you and your families survived it."

I shuddered, and backed into Theo for reassurance. What Mrs. Finch had just said was the EPITOME of what I was trying to stand up against, and trying to destroy. Elitists who used and abused their power… Mrs. Finch was threatening us with cold and calculating, purely intentional murder. And I knew that, if we took the Tome, she would act on it. Threatening our lives was bad enough, but threatening our _families_ was outrageous! It didn't matter so much to me – my dad was in Canada, and everyone thought Bart was still on the lamb – but I would NEVER subject Theo's loving family to such torture. My morals and ethics weren't worth this. I knew what I had to do.

Slowly, I slung my bag off one shoulder, and unzipped it. I pulled the leather-bound, jewel-encrusted Tome from within and, feeling nothing but burning hatred for Mrs. Finch, handed her the book.

"I knew you would see things reasonably," she said, her voice still even. "I expect to see you both in school on Monday. We'll keep quiet about this indiscretion, because I think you've both learned your lessons by now." With that, she turned on her heels and marched back towards the main building, holding the Tome securely in both hands.

I stalked out of the shed and started across the field. It was a clear, moonlit night, but the stars were blurred and obscured by the hot tears forming in my eyes. I was furious and scared, a far cry from my elation shortly before.

Theo caught up with me, lugging the sack. "Lisa? Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

"Of COURSE I'm not okay!" I replied bitterly, sticking to my rapid pace. I wanted to be away from that accursed school as fast as humanly possible.

"Well… is there anything I can do?" he asked gently.

"No," I spat. "There's nothing you can do, and there's nothing I can do." I stopped dead in the middle of the field, and looked at him. "They won, they beat me. I shouldn't even try."

"Well, yes, they beat you but only if you let them." He stared seriously at me. "You're feeling crappy right now, and that's understandable. But I'm sure, in a few days, you'll be more determined than ever to pay them back."

"I CAN'T!" I yelled, turning away. "I shouldn't even try."

"I didn't fall in love with a quitter," he said softly, taking me gently into his arms. "I fell in love with a girl who keeps trying, no matter what she has to overcome." I turned and leaned my head on his shoulder, crying into the green velvet below. Call me sappy, call me girly, call me what you will… but at that moment, suffering from such a humiliating defeat, his loving embrace helped calm me like nothing else could.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**


	18. Family Values

Originally posted: 6-27-06

Hey, long time no see! I hope people are still reading this… though my utter lack of posts since last August hasn't really given anyone reason to, I'm afraid. But now I bring you an update, and I think this chapter is pretty good. Not as long as the last one, but definitely as meaty.

After this, there's only **one more chapter** and a short **epilogue**. Those seem like easily obtainable summer goals, for a _dedicated_ person. But since my summer will be fairly busy (and since I'm not the best updater in the world heh heh heh) I don't know how much I'll be able to manage. I'd really like to finish this story sometime soon, though. I guess we'll see…

A million thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys make it all worthwhile!

Eh… I tried not to come across too preachy in this chapter, though I'm afraid it couldn't be helped. But just remember kiddies: Drugs Are For Thugs! Dope Is For…Dopes! And all that good stuff…

(ahem) So without further ado…

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**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

**Spinning for Hours**

**-O-**

_by Sir Mocha_

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

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**Chapter 18: Family Values**

Theo and I walked down the street. It was late, but I didn't think either of us was particularly eager to get home. It was a clear night, and I think the rest of town was still awake with us: lights were glowing in houses, music was emanating from open windows, and from a distance I could hear the sounds of police sirens. Another typical night in Springfield.

"…and then I took the check from Mr. Burns' cold, slimy hands and tore it up. It would have put me through college, but I couldn't stand the thought of making money by slaughtering sea creatures," I said softly.

"See? I knew you weren't a quitter!" he said, his hand in mine.

"I can stick to my principles, I know…" I explained, "but I'm still worried that Finch is going to let it slip what we did." I turned away, biting my lip.

"Well, Lisa… I'm not trying to be blunt, but it's not as if we're the most popular people in school. I mean, after the Knowledge Bowl…" He trailed off awkwardly.

I halted in the middle of the sidewalk, focusing my attention on Theo. He glanced back at me, curious at my abrupt stop, then did a double take when he noticed the tears welling in my eyes.

"Lisa," he said, looking pained, "I'm sorry. What I just said, it –"

"It wasn't you," I intoned, sitting down on the small grassy strip in front of the church and hugging my knees to my chest. Hesitantly, Theo sad cross-legged beside me, absently plucking the sharp blades of grass.

"I know everyone hates me," I said, and before Theo could interrupt I held up a hand and continued, "It's true. You don't have to sugarcoat it for me. I've tried to be strong… I've tried not to care about what they said, the looks they gave me, the way they quieted when I walked by.

"But Theo, if they hear that I tried to steal the Tome and subvert their organization, they're just going to hate me more. Everything's going to the same as it is now, but _worse_. More hatred, more antipathy, more angry muttering about you and especially about me."

I rested my head on my knees, glancing away from Theo. Then, softly, "I've tried to deny it, but I can't: I do care a lot about what they think of me." I watched as tears darkened the gray brocade of the skirt of my dress.

I was willful and usually stubborn, but undeniably I was more conscious of what others thought about me than most people assumed. Over my life I had changed my clothing styles, dieted, lied to people, and taken measures I wasn't proud of for the sake of popularity. I tried to repress this behavior. I tried to remind myself that personal satisfaction was more important that satisfying others' expectations. But inherent, dark, and lurking always inside of me, was a hideous awareness of others' opinions. The Corvids didn't like me and I didn't much like them… but though I hadn't wanted to admit it, it was tearing me up.

The tears were flowing harder now, and I'm sure poor Theo was at a complete loss as to what to do. As sensitive as he was, he was still a 16-year-old guy, and his emotional sensitivity was limited at best. But that didn't stop him from awkwardly trying: he placed a comforting had on my back and patted me gently while saying, "Lisa, this isn't like you –"

"Yes it is!" I yelled, jerking my head around to glare at him with tear-stained eyes. "Maybe you haven't known me long enough to know, but this is the way I am! I know I'm awful and shallow and frivolous – "

"It's natural," he said, trying to be the voice of reason to my near-hysteria. "Humans are social creatures. The only way we survived long enough to evolve was by organizing into packs and living together. Social interaction has always been an important part of life: it's normal for you to be concerned about your relationships with others."

I lifted my head, a watery smile on my face. "You're right, I guess. You usually are. But that doesn't mean I like it." I brushed my hand across my eyes, frowning. "Sometimes I think it'd be better to just start all over, you know? Get away from Springfield and the Corvids and all these issues."

"Yeah, it would be nice," he replied, "but that'd be taking the easy way out. Are you going to let them beat you?"

"…No," I said, a little more resolutely.

"Good," he said, then leaned over and kissed me softly.

Our kiss ended, and then we sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments. Theo looked deep in thought, but I wasn't looking for such pensiveness. I didn't want to dwell further on the pressures I could not combat, things I could not repress. For the rest of the night I just wanted to drift numbly, to feel rather than to think.

I stared at Theo who stared back at me, and neither of us said anything for a minute. I glanced down at the ground and at the massive amounts of grass Theo had managed to shred all over his stockinged leg.

I smiled. "We must look pretty ridiculous," I said, clutching a handful of silver velour.

He tugged at his green velvet coat. "Well, maybe I find these clothes pretty snazzy." But he grimaced, and I just laughed.

"My house isn't too far away," I said. "You want to come over?" I paused and wondered if maybe that question was a little too mistakenly forward. Then I wondered if I really cared. "I could lend you some of Bart's clothes," I tacked on lamely.

"Sounds good to me," said Theo, a small smile on his lips.

The church was a few blocks from Evergreen Terrace, which gave me a good opportunity to clear my head. There was something wholesome about that night: warm but not stuffy, clear but not stark, helping me get my thoughts in order. Walking side by side with Theo, thinking a bit ahead to what might transpire once we got to my house, I had to admit to myself that I was, ultimately, somewhat satisfied. I could put the near-disaster of the night aside (at least for now) and just enjoy myself.

We got to my house, cutting across my backyard. I found, amidst the jumble of gear in my backpack, my house key and let us in through the back door. Before following Theo inside, I glanced over the fence at the Flanders' back yard. When both Bart and Tommy left the shelter at night, they would place the Flanders' wheelbarrow upside down over the trapdoor to let me know that they were out. They would hang out in the backyard, or take a walk around the block: they needed to get out of the stuffy shelter occasionally, to stave off cabin fever, but it was too dangerous for them to go too far. I would have called out to them just then, to see if either was around, but since Theo was nearby I thought that would just lead to awkward questions.

"Hey, Lis, is this bacon?" Theo asked, his head stuck in my refrigerator. "Can I have some?"

"Ugh. I'm not sure how old that bacon _is_… I haven't got any since Homer was around," I explained, stepping into the house. "You're willing to have it, if you dare; wouldn't you rather have Soy Crunchies instead?"

"You're fabulous, but you don't appreciate food. I'll just take these Chippos instead," he responded, grabbing the bag off my counter.

What a goof. I rolled my eyes, exiting the kitchen and heading upstairs. After changing out of my ridiculous costume (which, as hard as I tried, I could not squeeze into my tiny closet) I headed into Bart's room, grabbed some stuff from his dresser, and returned back downstairs.

Theo had made himself right at home, reclining on the sofa in front of the television and stuffing Chippos into his mouth. He protested as a bundle of clothes, thrown graciously by me, hit him square in the face. I smiled and, while he was still sputtering and untangling himself from sweatpants, swooped in and planted myself on the couch, grabbing the chips.

"Well, those things weren't that great anyway," he said ruefully, glancing at the clothes in his hand. "Now, a nice bag of Farmer Billy's – "

He cut off abruptly, staring down at the fabric in his hand. I looked away from the TV to see him snatch up something that he then tried to stuff under the sofa cushions. But I was too fast; I grabbed his hand and said, "Theo, what is it?"

"Nothing, Lisa, I think it's a bug I tried to squish it and – "

"Theo, what is it?" I asked him seriously.

"You're not going to be happy," he said, closing his eyes in resignation. Then he slowly opened his clenched fist, and I had to bite back a rather uncharacteristic swear. Tentatively, I reached down to grab the little plastic baggie.

I'm not an expert on drugs. I've had alcohol, and I've been to parties where we've all tried a variety of mild drugs. (Hey, even geniuses aren't impervious to social pressures!) But I've never really been witness to anything else. I didn't know what the small white granules in the bag were, I didn't know what they did, and it made me sick to wonder what they were doing in Bart's drawer.

Theo just stared worriedly at me. I said, shocked, "But I got these out of Bart's dresser. What was this doing in Bart's dresser?"

Theo bit his lip, but said nothing.

"No, Theo, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. Bart would never do drugs. I'm positive."

He nodded, but I could see the skepticism in his eyes.

"No," I repeated, "Yeah, I realize Bart did a ton of bad things. But those were just stupid things… I mean, yeah, Bart did a lot of stupid things, but he'd never do drugs. I just talked to him, and I could tell that he was clean. I mean, he wasn't acting out of it or anything, and sounded the same as he usually does and everything. He never sounds weird… how could he be doing drugs?" I was rambling quite severely. But I _refused_ to believe that Bart would ever sink so low.

Theo remained silent, but there was an odd look in his eyes and I could not tell what he was thinking. He looked like he does when he knows the answer to some complex integral, but doesn't feel like drawing the negative attention from the rest of the class.

I stared broodingly at the television, sick of the flashing lights and noise of the show. "Want to go outside?" I asked halfheartedly.

"Sure," Theo said, and followed me out the door to the hammock. We both sat, swinging back and forth, listening to the creeks and squeaks of the netting and the trees.

"Sorry," I said quietly, resting my head against Theo's shoulder. Curiously, he didn't put his arm around me as he usually would, and it was my turn to bite my lip. Did he think the stuff was mine? Was he worried he was getting involved in a family of drug addicts?

"Sorry for what?" he asked levelly.

"Sorry you had to see that. Sorry that I might be wrong about my own brother." I lifted my head up, and couldn't help adding a little snidely, "Sorry that you refuse to believe me." I twisted my mouth, waiting to see what he would counter me with.

He stared into my eyes, his silver eyes almost glowing in the moonlight. "Tell me about your brother."

Well, that was unexpected. What more could I tell him that he didn't already know? "Um… his full name is Bartholomew, he's two years older than I am, and he has longish blond hair. And, uh… he's currently serving time in the state juvenile correction facility for stealing a car. Once he turns seventeen they're going to transfer him to the Springfield Penitentiary." I raised one eyebrow, wondering at the odd question.

Theo just shook his head, looking down. Then he glanced up at me coldly and pushed up off the hammock. He turned to face me, and I, while my world was swaying to equilibrium beneath me, stared back up at him.

"Lisa," he said, irritation plain in his tone, "I want to believe you. I want to trust you. But I want you to trust me too. I don't understand why you keep such big news from me. Do you think I'll tell on you?" He turned away. "You know where to find me when you feel like explaining everything to me." And then before I could register, he was gone from my yard, disappearing into the shadows from the streetlights.

I curled up in the hammock, confused and hurt. Theo was never this moody. And what did he mean by my not being honest? As far as I knew, I had never lied to him. I didn't tell him _everything_, of course, but I didn't think there was anything I had misled him over or kept secret from him…

And then it hit me. When I had been rambling about Bart earlier, I must have let something slip about his location! I couldn't remember what I had said, but I knew that if I had uttered any clues, Theo would have picked up on them. He must have figured out that Bart was close by – and gotten mad at me because I didn't trust him with the secret.

I groaned. Theo thought he knew about Bart, but I was sure he wasn't a hundred percent certain. Should I just lie, just give some sort of explanation that Bart wasn't here? After all, I had a responsibility to Bart (and to Tommy, who was staying with him) to keep his secret and keep him safe. But I didn't want to lie to Theo because I was terrified he would know, and he would hate me like almost everyone else seemed to. How fair was it of Bart to expect me to isolate myself for his benefit? After all, it was his fault he ended up in jail anyway. But how fair was it of me to put myself and my priorities above my brother and best friend?

_I'll tell Theo_, I finally decided, closing my eyes wearily. _Theo's trustworthy… Theo won't let me down… and it would be nice for Bart and Tommy to have a little more company._ My thoughts dissolved into incoherent fragments, and I started to drift off, listening to the sounds of the wind and my own heartbeat.

A minute later I realized that my heart _wasn't_ beating in tandem with the dull booming I heard. I sat up, staring around for the source of the unusual noise. It sounded somewhat metallic, and it sounded as if it was coming from the Flanders' yard…

Throwing my sleepiness aside, I bolted from the hammock and climbed over the fence, dashing towards the overturned wheelbarrow on top of the trapdoor. Sure enough, the metallic booming was issuing from beneath that barrow. Wondering how the guys had managed to overturn the barrow from the _inside _of the shelter, I quickly shoved it off and pulled open the door.

Tommy stared up at me, a haggard expression on his face. "Lisa, thank Buddha! Haven't you heard me at all over the past hour?"

"Sorry Tommy," I said, slipping into the shelter and pulling the door partway closed. "I think I was asleep… I just woke up." I glanced around the small room, and asked, "Where's Bart?"

Tommy went pale for a moment, then sat heavily down on the couch. His body language told me that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be pleasant – for himself or for me.

"It happened while you were at school today, this morning. Maybe I should have told you sooner," he said nervously, glancing at me, "but a lot of times, Bart leaves and disappears for a few hours during the day."

"He WHAT?" I said angrily. Stupid! There I had been, worried about divulging his whereabouts to one trustworthy individual, while he was off skipping around in broad daylight! "Tommy, why DIDN'T you tell me?"

He looked sheepish. "Bart told me not to tell you… and he always came back with some sort of interesting takeout. If you had broccoli and Boca Burgers for every meal, you'd understand the value of a little variety."

I rolled my eyes. Hadn't I been warned again and again that the only way to a guy's heart was through his stomach?

"I eventually found out," he continued cautiously, "that Bart has been going out a lot to the bad part of town, so he—"

"Let me guess," I said monotone. "He's been selling drugs." I didn't need Tommy's confirmation – which was slow in coming – to know that I was right. Hadn't Theo tried unsuccessfully to hide the evidence? And all that money Bart seemed to carry around – he certainly hadn't made that in Juvie.

I finally had to face the truth: I didn't know my big brother anymore. All those years he had been locked away… he still seemed the same on the surface, but who knew now what he was capable of?

Tommy stared at me. "Why are you so angry? It's not like you're some big narc or anything. You were always cool with a joint or two."

I ignored Tommy's question. He'd get the message eventually: I wasn't the girl he'd left behind. Many months of a new environment and new experiences had changed my outlook on life. I wanted to believe that I was now more mature. I wanted to think that I was wiser than Tommy, who at this moment sounded intolerably foolish to me. Instead of responding, I just asked, "Did Bart get arrested today?"

Arrested was such an ugly word.

"I was stuck down here," Tommy said, staring up at the ceiling. "I did hear a lot of noise, though. Shouting, crashing… eventually it got kind of quiet, and I decided to see what all the action had been about. I didn't want to come out too quickly, in case they were still up there, of course. But I think someone accidentally knocked the wheelbarrow over onto the door, and since I'm at such a crappy angle I couldn't get enough leverage to push it off. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't heard me hitting the door."

I nodded, then said, "I have to go down to the station and find my brother. I have to figure out if I can get him out somehow."

Tommy nodded seriously, and I pushed open the door and climbed back out onto the yard. With a spring over the fence, I was in my yard again, unchaining my bike. It was late, I knew, but the police station would have to be open at that time and I needed to find out the situation with Bart before anything drastic happened.

In a few minutes I was standing at the front desk, asking to see Chief Wiggum. The aging police officer was as incompetent as he had ever been, but he would still know what was going on with Bart.

Officer Lou led me inside the main room, with cells on one side and the Chief's desk on the other. As the officers watched whatever sitcom was on the television, I glanced into the cells. The usual number of petty criminals was locked up, and in one cell I spied, sitting between a wrinkly mole-like man and a renowned boozer with a bone through his blue hair, my brother relaxing casually.

Chief Wiggum looked up from the show (no doubt during a boring commercial) and thundered, "Well well, if it isn't little Lisa Simpson, the girl who ruined my Ralphie's school competition!" Then, a moment later, he said, "So what can I do for you?" in a perfectly courteous tone.

I was caught off guard by his apparent ambivalence, but said sweetly, "Actually, Chief Wiggum, I heart that you had arrested my brother this morning…"

"Oh," he said, glancing cockeyed at me, "you _heard_. Are you sure you didn't _know_ that he was hiding next door to you all this time?"

I looked over at Bart, who shook his head from side to side. "Oh, really?" I asked, feigning innocence. "Wow, I had no idea."

"Good!" he said, looking relieved. "I mean, heh, that would have been pretty bad if a 15-year-old knew before the _police_. We would have looked pret-ty stupid."

I smiled. "So Chief Wiggum, do you know what's going to happen to my brother? I'm sure it was just a dumb mistake on his part… I'll take him home and ground him and make sure he doesn't do that again – "

"No way, Simpson." The police chief shook his head, looking stern. "We've been searching for your brother for months now. He's got a record a mile long, and escaping from Juvie only makes things worse. Despicable."

"And the drugs?" I added hesitantly.

"Oh yeah," he grunted, "yeah, here in Springfield we take a hard line on drugs! Zero tolerance!"

_Then why is your Ralphie one of the biggest potheads in our class?_ I thought, but outwardly just nodded.

"Anyway," he said, "your brother is scheduled to go before the judge tomorrow. Remind me again how old he is."

"He'll be seventeen in a few months."

"Ah, well in that case he'll have a closed hearing, and it'll probably just be the judge, us police, and him."

"And his lawyer?" I asked shrewdly.

Chief Wiggum blushed. "Oh yeah, that guy too. Hmm, I guess we better find someone."

So much for the fabled Springfield justice system. "May I attend?" I asked. "Usually a minor's parents are allowed to be present, but since Homer's away on work, can I go in his stead?" As angry as I was with Bart, I didn't want him to have to face this alone.

"Eh, why not?" decided Chief Wiggum. "Trial's at nine."

I thanked the Chief, who had returned his attention to the colorful sitcom while picking food out of his teeth with his police badge. I glanced over at Bart, and offered him a half-smile and a wave. He inclined his head towards me, and then I left the disquieting room.

I started pedaling home, glancing at my watch. If I didn't get back soon, I wouldn't be able to get my ten hours of sleep to stave off my migraines. Tomorrow would prove to be unpleasant anyway. I didn't need a splitting headache on top of it all.

**- O -**

The oaken door loomed up forebodingly in front of me, and I wondered how I would be able to open it – it looked quite heavy, and not likely to budge when force was applied. But the janitors had been doing their jobs, it would seem, because the door opened smoothly and silently. I almost would have preferred a creak or groan – the silence was surreal, and as I stepped into the sunny hall I felt like I was stepping into the Twilight Zone.

A prim woman sat behind a mahogany desk, shuffling through various forms and papers. "May I help you?" she asked, glancing at me critically over a pair of angular pince-nez.

"I'm here for the Bart Simpson hearing," I said softly.

"Only family are allowed in the hearings concerning minors," she informed me coldly.

"I'm the defendant's sister," I explained, "and I got permission from Chief Wiggum last night," I added hopefully.

She stared at me again, focusing on my blue hair. I looked respectable enough; I had dressed up for the trial, to give a judge a good opinion of our family. I had even donned my pearl necklace and my Corvid ring, the nicest pieces of jewelry I owned. I had tried to arrange my blue hair in an innocent-schoolgirl 'do, and I guess it passed her requirements because she said, "Very well. They're about to begin in Courtroom Four. Try not to make too much noise on your way in."

My footsteps echoed loudly on the marble floor as I traversed the grand hall. I had been in this courthouse too many times; I instinctively knew my way to good old Number Four.

These doors were less well oiled; they creaked loudly as I pushed them open, and I tried to slip in as hastily as I could. From across the room Chief Wiggum waved at me, and I waved feebly back as I took a seat on the defendant side.

Soon, the bailiff entered the room and announced, "All rise for the honorable Judge Constance Harm."

As I stood, I inwardly groaned. Judge Harm had no great love for the Simpson family, and I didn't expect Bart to fare too well under her tough gavel. She entered the courtroom with her usual arrogant stride, and ascended her throne to sit loftily above us all.

She directed her glare first at the police (Chief Wiggum waved cheerfully back), then at me. "Little girl, who are you?" she asked accusatorily.

"Please, your Honor, I'm the defendant's sister, Lisa Simpson."

"Oh, so you're Bartholomew's sister, are you? Yes, I remember you." She shook her head, intimating that she assumed I was every bit as bad as Bart. "In that case, I have a question for young lady: Where are you parents?"

I gulped. "Well my mother, Marge, left us a few years ago and moved to France with another man. And my father, Homer, is away in Canada, in conjunction with the nuclear power plant."

"I called the power plant," she said. "Homer Simpson has not been on their payroll for the last few months. They said he quit a while ago."

"…What?" I asked, stunned. I had counted the lack of phone calls and letters from Homer as his being too busy to keep in touch a lot. But if what Judge Harm had said was true, then I didn't know what to think. Homer had lied to me, and had shut me out of his life. It was just like Marge all over again.

"Your father left you alone and unsupervised for the last few months?" she asked, a vein bulging in her forehead. "And he didn't even tell you where he was!"

"Canada," I offered blandly. Except who knew if even _that_ was true.

"Young lady, it's still a serious case of neglect to leave a fourteen-year-old girl by herself for such a prolonged period of time."

I didn't bother to inform her that I was fifteen. My cheerful birthday celebration with Theo two weeks ago seemed so weird now, removed from this dangerous sphere of reality I currently inhabited.

"As soon as we can, we'll get your father down here and punish him to the full extent of the law. Don't worry."

I felt tears well up in my eyes. First Bart, now Homer… all too quickly, I was losing the remaining family I had. Already torn apart by Marge's betrayal, I now faced the possibility of both a father and a brother in jail. My boyfriend refused to talk to me. Everyone at school refused to talk to me over that ugly Knowledge Bowl incident. Only Tommy was still there for me, but if we weren't careful he too would be pulled away.

I felt as though I was floating in space, unable to resist the pull of a massive, crushing black hole. Two more strands of my lifeline were about to be severed, leaving me one or maybe two thin fibers that anchored me to the earth. They could so easily break, and then I would be let loose, spinning towards the black hole and its heart, a place so dark that any and all light would be extinguished…

"I'm fine, Judge Harm, really," I pleaded. "Homer sends me money, and I have his phone number so I can call him whenever I want…"

"But what if there was an emergency, and we were unable to reach him? No, I refuse to argue with you any longer. Young people always want independence… they don't understand how important parental guidance is." She banged her gavel on its block, as if delivering a sentence. "Now bring in the boy."

The courtroom doors opened again and Bart walked in, escorted by a guard and accompanied by a lackluster court appointed lawyer. Bart looked stoically around the courtroom, his expression brightening slightly when he saw me. I smiled, as if to offer my support, and he smiled back a bit in return. I wasn't tricked, though; I could see that he was nervous.

He stood before the judge, head bowed slightly, while she eyed him predatorily. "Bartholomew Simpson, you are brought before the court today to answer to charges of running away from a juvenile detention center, destruction of government property in the course of aforementioned escape, and supplying illegal substances to the people of Springfield. How do you plead?"

Bart's lawyer merely stared into his coffee, barely cognizant of his surroundings. So Bart took it on himself to answer the judge, and of course, he said reflexively, "Not guilty, your Honor."

I wondered whom he was trying to fool. Everyone in the room knew he was guilty.

"Mr. Simpson, you understand that by admitting your guilt the court will be more inclined to be lenient towards you in your sentence. With that knowledge, do you wish to change your admission of guilt?"

Now I wondered whom _she_ was trying to fool. Judge Harm was famous for her cruel, unsympathetic feelings and harsh punishments. Bart must have realized this too, because he said, "No, ma'am," stubbornly, staring up at her.

"Fine," she spat, looking satisfied at the chance to dig her talons into my brother. "In that case, I ask the police chief to deliver an account of the arrest he made yesterday morning."

Chief Wiggum stood and recounted a story similar to what Tommy had told me. (I noticed that he embellished his tale a bit: I didn't remember Tommy telling me about the large horde of Bart's addict clients whom Chief Wiggum beat into submission.) But Judge Harm paid little attention to him. For her, this was just a formality on the way to throwing the book at my brother. I could see it in her eyes: she was out for his blood. For whatever vindictive reason, she couldn't wait to tear my family apart further.

When Chief Wiggum finished his testimony and took his seat, Judge Harm barked, "Having heard the evidence against this young man, we will now give the defense a chance to speak. Mr. Hempstead, do you have any witnesses to call in the boy's defense?"

"No, your Honor," the lawyer said wearily, as if he would rather be in bed than in the courtroom at that time.

"Bartholomew, do you have anything to say in your defense?"

He glanced sidelong at me, before saying quietly, "Judge Harm, if you believe that I've done these bad things and find me guilty, please don't think worse of my sister. She was completely innocent of this. She's always completely innocent of everything: she's a good student, a good sister, and a great person. I'm sorry if I caused her any trouble in this whole mess."

Whatever ill feelings I had for Bart dissolved in an instant. Whatever bad things he had done, he was still my brother: he faced going to jail, a truly horrible experience, and yet he was still looking out for me and concerned for me. He didn't want to drag me down with him, and he wanted me to know that he regretted the stupid thing he had done.

I was moved, but Judge Harm merely sat there, emotional as a stone. "Very well," she said, glancing around. "We will have a ten-minute break, then reconvene for the final verdict." She banged her gavel, and immediately the police officers got up, while Bart's lawyer slumped forward on the desk and started mumbling incoherently.

"Lisa, may I see you in my office?" the judge asked, taking me completely by surprise. I assumed she wanted to chew me out a bit more about Homer. I had no desire to follow the woman, but since she was about to decree Bart's future (or lack thereof), the last thing I wanted to do was enrage her.

I followed her into the small room and sat in the stiff chair in front of her desk. She sat behind it and rested her elbows on the surface, tenting her fingers.

"Miss Simpson, by now I'm sure you know that Bartholomew's punishment is going to be harsh. At the very least, he'll be spending the next few years of his life behind bars, and the Springfield Penitentiary is no kind place to a seventeen-year-old boy."

I nodded. Bart had conveyed his fears about prison to me, and I knew that he dreaded the prospect of going. That was what had prompted him to run in the first place.

"And once your father returns to Springfield, he will be tried for gross negligence. If I was presiding over the case, and I well could be, I would push to have his custody of you and your brother revoked. The court would try to place you in a foster home."

I bit my lip. As dishonest as Homer had been with me, he still called and sent letters and presents on occasion, and never forgot to mention how much he loved me. I was angry with him, but I didn't want to be taken away and placed in a stranger's house. And I didn't want Homer to go to jail either. I didn't want to lose any more of my family.

"Miss Simpson, I can tell that you're very competent living on your own. You don't seem to be suffering from lack of food or new clothing. And I'm sure you're very smart… judging by the Corvid ring on your finger."

My hand flew to the gold ring, and my jaw dropped. "Judge Harm… you're saying… you?"

She pulled back the sleeve of her black robe to reveal an identical gold ring on her finger. "Lisa, the Corvid society looks out for its own. I want to help you out. I can pull strings to get your brother out of juvenile detention. And when your father returns, I will have a thorough conversation with him, but I will not punish him. Does that sound agreeable to you?"

"What do I need to do in return?" I asked, still in shock.

"Nothing now. Just make sure to help out your fellow Corvids when you can." The harsh frown lines in her brow relaxed. It was the closest to a smile that I'd ever seen from her.

I sat silently for a moment. This was a remarkable opportunity: I'd be helping both Bart and Homer. Our family could stay intact. I wouldn't be alone in the house anymore, and I'd have my brother and father back.

But a large part of me was screaming in protest. The judge was offering to override the law for me, just because I was a Corvid. She was making a mockery of the long-established justice system for no sound reason. I hated when Corvids took advantage of their connections to scorn what was supposed to apply to all people. I hated Corvid special privileges: how could I accept one now?

It had come down to a conflict between my family and my beliefs. I was such a hypocrite: I talked so much about my morals, but when the slightest opposition came up against them, I threw them out the window in a heartbeat.

I had to save my family. No matter what the personal cost to me.

"Thank you very much, Judge Harm. I appreciate your generous offer."

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**


End file.
